


The Moon and the Sun

by BikeChanderson



Category: Glee
Genre: AU-Childhood Friends/Sweethearts, AU-Subtle Magical Elements, M/M, Warning: Author has only seen seasons 1-3 of Glee
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-15
Updated: 2015-07-22
Packaged: 2018-01-16 08:54:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 41,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1339510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BikeChanderson/pseuds/BikeChanderson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blaine and Mike meet when they are younger and then are separated almost as soon as they befriend each other.  Several years later they meet again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sunshine and Moonbeam

**Author's Note:**

> **To those of you that have never read the first draft of TMaTS on FF.net:** please ignore the notes addressed to those who have read the first draft directly below this paragraph. If you want to read the first draft, [here](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/6878787/1/The-Moon-and-The-Sun-first-draft) is a link (but I wouldn’t recommend it because spoilers and just…bad continuity/writing/dialogue/characterization and stuff.)
> 
>  **To those of you that have read the first draft of TMaTS on FF.net:** there are a lot of changes in this draft, which is one of many reasons it took me so long to start publishing it again. I have taken out some elements of the story but each chapter will have a commentary with it in the notes at the end of each chapter to explain why I took it out. I have also added some elements to the story which I will also explain. Please enjoy and thank you for your continued interest over the years.
> 
>  **To everyone** : Please point out any mistakes so I can rectify them. I don’t have a beta reader and I do realize that I have problems with grammar, spelling, typos, missing words, and continuity. This, however does not include characterization. Every person has their own view about each character and no one should cater to the character needs of others. However, if you REALLY feel like a character is too out of character please comment and I will decide if it needs changing.  It should be acknowledged that I have not seen any episodes past Season 3 of Glee so my characterization will probably be off (because it’s clear that Glee doesn’t keep track of characterization.) So give me some liberty with that.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moonbeam and Sunshine become friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has been edited (but still feel free to tell me if you see any mistakes.)

**When his mother told him that he would be spending the summer “toughing it out” with his aunt** , Blaine didn’t expect that he would be spending it at a camp filled with dusty cabins and even dustier Asian kids. Their black hair was powdered with the sand and bits of grass and pine needles as they ran in front of the car Blaine was anxiously watching them from. Blaine really felt like he was watching a bunch of wild boys trapped in a malicious hive-mind prison with their matching white polo shirts and blue shorts.

“You’re going to help me clean up after eating periods and after campfire time. Other than that you are free to do whatever what you want. Just don’t bother the other campers too much; they have really tight schedules,” he loved his aunts facial expressions, they were so small and subtle but they expressed so much. When she would visit his family Blaine would spend time just watching her laugh with his mom, smiling like he got all the jokes they were shooting off. Aunt June smiled down at him as she opened the door to her cabin, which looked tiny and secluded compared to the other cabins on the other side of the camp. “It’ll be nice to have you around, champ,” she continued as she pushed the door open with a forceful shove of her shoulder. “The first week of doing all of this alone wasn’t a cake walk and I think nine is the perfect age to get a kid accustomed to hard work,” her tone had a hint of sarcasm which made Blaine grin. However his smile relaxed into a less enthusiastic one as he looked around the small cabin.

He tried not to show how badly he wanted to leave or how badly he wanted to go home and maybe watch the game with his dad. He didn’t like how he was suddenly uprooted from his summer activities to get thrown into this life of dust-covered wooden floors and the smell of sticky pine and slimy fish.

“Unpack and then meet me in the lunch hall so I can show you the ropes.” She patted him on the back and headed out the door, shouting at some boys playing near the lake as the door slammed behind her. He blinked at the door, hating it for so blatantly telling him that this was going to be his life for the next two weeks. He sat down on his bags and rubbed at the back of his head as he forced himself not to cry.

 

 **Blaine did not go to the lunch hall when he finished unpacking.** Instead, he fished out his most beloved treasure he managed to “borrow” from his dad’s study before leaving, it was an old pocket watch. His dad told him that it was given to his grandpa from his grandma on their 50th anniversary; a faded engraving of a tiny flower was on the back. He liked to run his finger over the smoothed down lines of the flower, smiling at the thought that it might be okay to give flowers to a guy if it was on a pocket watch. It made him feel at peace to watch the sunlight coming from the windows reflect off the polished metal. He grinned as the light bounced off the watch and onto the banister of the one of the beds. He slowly moved his free hand up into the reflection, watching as the light slipped over the lines in his hands. He was holding the sunlight in his hand and it was warm and pleasing. It filled him with a strange sort of excitement that something was about to happen.

A shadow passed over the window and he quickly shoved the watch back into his pocket before looking up, ready to be reprimanded by his aunt. After a few moments of waiting for her to enter he sighed with relief to find that it wasn’t her. Curiosity to find out what exactly caused the shadow struck him and he walked closer to the window to peer out. There was a group of boys playing near the edge of the lake, splashing each other and tripping in shallows of the water. He heard giggles and his eyes darted over to two girls hiding behind a tree. The girls were watching boys playing and whispering to each other. Blaine felt like he was one of them as he leaned behind the wall near the window, shyly observing the boys as they pushed each other around.  He could see one of the boys glancing every so often over at the tree they girls were hiding behind. After every glance he would become a little more aggressive with his buddies. Blaine rolled his eyes, the showing off wasn’t cute. He chewed anxiously on his lips, hating the fact that he was even thinking of those boys as “cute.” Because thinking like that was wrong.

He was about to turn back to the dark, humid, depths of the cabin when something glinted at the corner of his eye. He whipped back around so fast it nearly hurt his neck. A glimmer. Maybe a fairy in his window?

The sun was reflecting off something and glaring through the smudged, dirty glass window. When the twinkling brightness subsided Blaine peered around for its source. His gaze rested on the sliver casing of a CD player in the hands of a skinny boy dragging his feet over the sand next to the water. His feet moved across the sand so gracefully like he was merely an extension of the ground. The sand wanted to express and this boy was its creation, bursting so calmly out of its grainy depths. His dance with the sand was music that Blaine could almost hear somewhere in the back of his mind. Blaine tapped his toes to the rhythm that the boy was presenting as the sand danced around his shoes.

He felt shock crawl up into his throat with a gasp when the boy’s eyes, before so focused on his CD player, shot up and stared directly at Blaine. After a few small moments of shared eye contact Blaine moved to the side and out of the dim light of the window. He felt the inane guilt build up in his stomach for watching the boy. But, a few seconds more and he was peering back out the window to see the boy still staring, a disappointed grimace on his face. Feeling giddy, Blaine moved back into view and the boy’s expression lit up.  The boy lifted his hand up in a shy wave. When Blaine returned the wave with an equally shy movement the boy grew even more confident, his arm waving with his hand the second time with enthusiasm. Blaine clapped his hands together in eagerness before he could control himself.

Excited at the idea of someone to talk to Blaine began to pull at the window so he could get to know his new friend. Unfortunately, the window was painted shut and he certainly wasn’t strong enough to pull it out of its white paint prison.  He looked up and jumped back a little to see the boy was inches away from the window—amazingly fast for a normal boy, he was probably a sand fairy—his expression was sadden by the result of Blaine’s useless tugging.

Blaine shrugged and twitched his head toward the front door. The boy began to nod at Blaine’s new idea when a loud ringing came from the main area of the camp. The boy’s excited expression switched back to the disappointment. Blaine saw the other boys and two girls running toward the center of the camp and the boy made a gesture to follow them.

Anxious, Blaine slapped his hand against the window, trying to tell his new friend not to go. The boy looked down at the hand and then up at Blaine. His mouth twitched up in thought as he reached forward and placed his own hand parallel to Blaine’s, the dust on the other side moved with the press of his fingers. Blaine looked down at their hands and then up at the boy with hope that this meant they would stay together and play. Maybe the boy would teach him how to dance with the sand on the beach while the other kids stuck to their rigorous schedule.  But the sad smile on the boy’s face told him enough and he nodded slowly before the boy removed his hand, waved, and started following his peers away from Blaine.

Blaine hoped he would see his new friend later and sighed as he watched the boy run toward the other side of the camp, the dirt kicking up behind his feet.

 

 **A few days later he did see the boy again**. Lunch was just ending and Blaine found himself with tacky yellow gloves on and full garbage bag dragging in his wake. He felt humiliation flood through him, sure that his peers would notice him and laugh at him for doing such menial work while they ate and chatted away. He was going to sue someone for this unfair treatment. He was definitely going to sue his dad for making him leave the comfort of his home for this.

Blaine felt even more embarrassed when the boy from the window entered the lunch hall, the CD player still in his hands with music blasting from the headphones resting on his ears. He was watching Blaine’s situation the instant he entered with appraising eyes.

Blaine started to shrink back as the boy shoved his CD player into the pocket of his blue camp shorts. He stepped forward, wrapped his hand around Blaine’s hand, the one he was pulling the bag with, and helped him pull. Blaine blushed and grinned, the bag really wasn’t that heavy but he didn’t really mind the help.

“What’s your name?” Blaine asks after they heave the bag into the dumpster behind the lunch hall.

The boy raised his eyebrow in question.

“Oh, you don’t speak English?” Blaine flushed again and looked away from the big brown, wide and staring eyes. He ran into this communication block a few times already and it was awkward. In this case it was more upsetting than awkward. But he started to smile as his friend slowly pulled down his headphones. Of course! The boy just couldn’t’ hear him! Duh. “What is your name?”

Now it was time for his friend to blush and look away shyly. Blaine began to pull off his gloves as he waited for the answer, his smile smoothly encouraging. His friend was suddenly fascinated with his own shoes as he took a breath to speak—a loud shout made them both jump. It was in a different language that Blaine, unfortunately, didn’t understand. His friend seemed to understand it as he was pulling his headphones back on. He gave Blaine another sad smile before darting away, his feet turning gracefully on the gravel as he turned to run.

He was starting to think the boy was never going to talk to him. He pulled the last rubber glove off and threw the pair to the ground in a small fit of frustration.

 

 **Blaine decided that the combination of spaghetti sauce and ice cream sandwiches as the worst mixture in all mixture existence.** The way the red, meaty, sauce clashed and blended with the melted vanilla ice creamed into a little puddle on the bottom of the garbage bag he was carrying made him gag. It was like vomit—milky, chunky, tomato vomit. Blaine cringed as this garbage bag vomit pooled on the tile floor as he picked the bag up and placed it into a cleaner one so the grossness wouldn’t spread all over as he dragged it through the lunch hall. (This answered his questions about Cooper’s jokes about “double baggers” he would definitely have to tell Cooper when he got back home.)

He imagined that if he let the milkmato get on the floor it would grow into a new toxic species of milkmato monsters. He was trying to think of the best way to defeat these monsters if they came to life when something hit him sharp on the back of his neck.

He spun around, ready to attack his enemy. He found his adversary to be a table of more giggling girls. To him, girls were just as bad a milkmato monsters…probably worse.

All but one of the girls stared at him with wide, expectant eyes. He sent them an unsure smile before glancing at the girl that wasn’t paying attention. The only reason she caught his eye was the dark swirls of sharpie messily scribbled onto her white sleeve all the way up to the collar. It was like marker vines were slowly taking over her body to create one hybrid of dark marker and little girl.

“You’re cute,” one of the girls said loudly, drawing him out of his observations. Blaine’s eyes widened and he dropped the garbage bag he was holding as he stepped back. His step back made him run into someone behind him and when he turned around he saw his friend from the day before, CD player still clutched and the loud beats of music audible through the foamy headphones over his ears.  Blaine muttered an apology and blushed as he smiled at the boy.

“Tina!” Blaine looked back around at the girls when he heard the squeaky cry of outrage. Blaine watched, backing into his friend again. A tall, gangly boy marching towards the girl’s table.

“Ooh, Tina. It’s your boyfriend,” one of the girls whispered loudly while the other one’s giggled. . . again. The girl with the sharpie sleeve glared at her companions and then up at the boy who just reached their table.

“What do you want, Wes?”

“Your shirt! That’s breaking the rules!” He placed his hands on his hips and tapped his toes slightly while he waited for her response. Instead of speaking, Tina packed up her notebook and sharpies she was working with, stood up, glared, and then started walking away.

“Go and clean it up, Tina!” He demanded as she shoved past him.

“No,” she stuck out her tongue. “I’m not going to let a boy tell me what to do!” With those words she stormed out of the room, leaving Wes with an exasperated look on his face.

“She totally likes you,” one of the girl’s said, her mocking laugh hiding under twitchy lips. Her friend buried her head in her hands to quiet her laughter.

“Really?” Wes’ harden face changed immediately into a hopeful smile. In response the girl’s freely laughed. Their mirth caused Wes to frown and glare. He turned angrily to Blaine, who was unashamedly watching their interactions.

“What are you looking at?” He snapped. Blaine, afraid of any confrontation, shook his head vigorously.

“Leave him alone, Wes. You’re just jealous because he’s cuter than you,” the girls were staring down at their plates, their faces contorted as they held back their laughter again. Blaine blushed and looked back toward his friend only to find that the boy was gone along with his garbage bag.

“What’s his name?” Blaine asked, gesturing to the now empty spot behind him.

“Who?” One of the girls said after they finally stopped suppressing laughter.

“That boy that was just behind me.”

The girls shrug in unison before going back to their food and gossip. For a moment he panicked, thinking that maybe he was so desperate for friendship that he was creating his own friend like he was six again or something. His panic was alleviated when one of the younger girls said. “He’s a mister ree us. He like never talks during camp stuff and he is always listening to his music. He’s too cool, that’s why he never talks to anyone. He’s also really cute, like you.” That got the girls giggling again. Blaine just rolled his eyes and replaced the bag in the garbage bin, only vaguely wondering where the full bag went.

When he thought about the way the boy blushed when he asked for his name he realized that his friend probably wasn’t silent to be cool. He was probably just really shy. He was probably just afraid of bringing attention to himself. Or maybe he was a mystical being that only children could see and he was cursed to be mute for the rest of his days.

“I hope the garbage boy comes to the carnival tonight,” he heard one of them as when they thought he was out of ear shot. He gagged, pushed the lunch hall door open, and ran to escape their laughter.

After he was a good distance away from the lunch hall his frantic running was stopped by a yellow piece of paper flying onto his face. Oh the inconveniences of litter and wind! He stumbled back as he pulled the paper away from his face. With the anger any “sensible” 9 year old would have during such a simple incident, Blaine crumbled up the paper and threw it toward the water. Watching it roll nearer to the water Blaine remembered the special he watched with his mom about penguins getting caught in human garbage and dying. He quickly darted to save the penguins from a terrible yellow-paper fate. He grabbed the paper and jumped away before the water could creep up to his shoes.  Blaine grudgingly uncrumbled the paper as if he was doing it a favor, the grainy texture was unpleasant against his hands. It reminded him of the paper often given to him in class—not smooth to the pencil’s touch like the paper in his dad’s printer or the neatly lined paper in his elder brother’s notebook—but the words printed in black against the blinding yellow were exciting, enough to make up for the poor paper choices. There was a small carnival visiting that night and there was a picture of a giant ferris wheel. He traced the picture with his finger aimlessly as he imagined what it would be like to reach the highest point of the ferris wheel.

Another gust of wind pushed the paper out of his hand and he chased it as it flitted over the pine needles and patches of grass and dirt. He laughed as it moved around his feet almost teasing him with it’s warm-like-the-sun color. He caught it one last time and shoved it into his pocket, the paper crumbling into the tight “camping” pants that his mother bought for him before he left. He was about to head back to his cabin to beg his aunt to let him go to the carnival when a voice startled him.

“Are you going to that?” Blaine held back a scream which turned into a high squeak. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” He turned to see that Tina girl from the lunch room smiling at him, her black tangled hair swishing in front of her face the way Blaine’s curls tickled his forehead. Her smile was shy and unsure and her hands were gripping several markers. She looked better when she smiled and Blaine, drawn by her suddenly amiable attitude took a small step toward her.

“It’s okay, I’ll be fine. Why did you draw on your shirt?” He asked, pointing to black whirlpools of sharpie still decorating her clothes, he never did have control of voicing his curiosities.

Her smile suddenly turned into a frown and her stance went defensive. “Why? Are you going to tell me to clean it off?”

“No,” Blaine replied hurriedly. “Not at all. I like them. I just wanted to know why is all.” He looked at his feet, feeling a humiliating blush crawl up his neck.

“Oh, okay. I did it because these clothes are boring,” she said simply before plopping down onto the ground in front of him. “Sit with me. You seem pretty cool. Most boys are pretty cool. Except Wes. Wes isn’t cool.”

Blaine paused to think before shrugging and taking a seat next to her. “You know, I think Wes likes you.”

Tina’s face colored red for a flash of a moment before she whipped her head around to glare at Blaine. “What makes you think that? Did those girls put you up to this?”

Blaine explained that he was speaking from observation and not from gossip (of course he used terms more colloquial to a nine-year-old) and then proceeded to tell her about the instances before in the lunch room. Tina exclaimed that the very idea of Wes liking her was gross but Blaine could tell that she was actually quite pleased.

“You’re cool,” she said, the subject of Wes is abruptly dropped. “Let me mark you,” she leaned in close so Blaine had to arch away in surprise.

“What?” Tina selected the blue, purple, black, and yellow markers out of her collection and scooted closer to him, oblivious to the slight panic in his tone.

“Can I draw on you? As a present for only the cool people here,” she said, suddenly perky. “I can give you a moon,” she uncapped the blue marker and looked hesitantly up at him. “If that’s okay with you?”

He bit down on his bottom lip in thought, weighing the consequences and eventually deciding to nod his head and smile at her. “Why a moon?” He asked, jerking away as she approached again.

“Because I already did a sun—now hold still.” He did as he was told and went deliberately rigid as the cold tip of her blue marker touched his forehead. His chuckle when she pushed his hair back was quickly quieted when she lightly smacked his head.

While she colored she talked to him. She told him that most of the girls at camp had a crush on him because of his hair (he will never have curly hair ever again!) She told him that the boy that took the garbage out for him was one of her silent friends that she sat by during classes (when she actually went, most of the time she opted to skip their classes to explore the woods. Her scratched knees and messy hair were evidence of her “rebellion.”) But she didn’t know his name. She called him “Wallflower” which pleased Blaine because she understood the boy’s shyness for what it was. He wasn’t a persona of mystery; he was the persona of the quiet and shy content peace that comes with a day of freedom lying in the grass or the smell of piano with wooden keys with the white paint chipping off because of beautiful aging and use.

He closed his eyes as her markers got nearer. Blaine smiled as the afternoon sun warmed his dark hair. He usually hated when it was too hot during the summer because his head would feel all sweaty and burned because the mop of dark curls on top soaked the sun’s rays up like a sponge. However, the sunlight that day was different, almost comforting as the wind tugged at his hair. He felt his thoughts drifting off to far away thoughts and fairy tales. He was Peter Pan and he was getting ready to go and play with the lost boys. Tina was painting his face so he could hide in bushes and be unseen by his troupe of mischievous peers.

“All done,” Tina pulled away and put the cap back on the black marker with a smart snap. “You’re marked!”

Blaine opened his eyes and blinked quickly, the sun’s light overwhelmed him and brought him back to the reality that he was sitting in the dirt at a camp not in the wilderness of Neverland.

“What does that even mean?”

“If you are marked that means that Tina thinks you’re awesome,” she gave him a thumbs up and shoved the makers in her pockets as she stood up. “The goody-goody Wes will never get my mark,” she muttered as she dusted herself off. Blaine chuckled as he followed her movements.

 

 **“They called me garbage boy,”** Blaine whined to his aunt after she had moderately scolded him for allowing someone to draw on his forehead (“Well, it’s a very nice drawing. I’ll give you that.”). The sounds of a rattling tea kettle were distant to Blaine’s ears. He could only think of the wallflower boy and those girls that thought he was “hot.”

It frustrated him knowing that it was okay for them to think something like that about a boy when he was in the wrong when he considered the same things. Why did he have to be so different? Why did he have to be so abnormal? He groaned and turned over on his bed.

“I’m sorry, champ. Maybe we can switch around shifts so you don’t have to see them anymore?”

“No!” Blaine sat up straight. His loud protest caused his aunt to nearly drop the kettle in her hands. “I mean, other than those girls, I like that shift.” Because Wallflower eats during that time.

“Oh? Is there a girl you like there?” Darn her slightly skewed insightfulness!

“No! Yuck!” He expressed his distaste by lying back on his bed and folding his arms.

“You are at the age when girls start to become attractive but you’re afraid to admit it.”

Blain gagged dramatically and glared up at the ceiling.

“This boy will someday be a man who gags at his wife,” his aunt responded jovially as she placed the tea kettle back over the embers of the cabin fire place.  She sat down on the edge of his bed, holding a steaming cup of tea.

“I’m not going to marry _a girl_!”

“Would you rather marry a boy?” She snorted and shook her head as she brought her tea up to her lips. The words were teasing but they struck Blaine. He grumbled and pulled his blanket over his head as he buried his face in his pillow. He did this partly because he didn’t want his aunt to see his ashamed frown and partly because the soft blanket against his body made him feel welcome in a time of distress. The soft and warn flecks of fabric ran against the back of his neck as she pulled the blankets away. “Champ?”

He didn’t answer. He prayed for his bed to eat him up, let him sink into a world of blankets and pillows and aunts that don’t ask questions.

“Hey Champ?” She placed a hand on his back and he flinched away. “I was only jok-oh…oh, Blaine?” Her voice sounded worried but amused. His shame crawled up his flesh in red and fiery increments. He mumbled an incoherent response into his pillow.

“Blaine,” he felt the mattress press down as she leaned closer to him. Her hand rubbed his back in an attempt at comfort. He didn’t want comfort. “Do you like boys?”

He chose not to respond.

“Blaine?”

“That’s wrong.” He muttered, his defeated tone muffled by the fabric of the pillow case.

“Who told you that?”

He felt tears starting to sting his eyes as he remembered the conversation he had with his father.

_“Blaine, what happened to your face?”_

_“Tony hit me.”_

_“Your friend?”_

_“Yes.”_

_“Why did he hit you? I should call his par-”_

_“Because I gave him a flower.”_

_“Why did you give him a flower, Blaine?”_

_“Because Mark gave Vicky a flower and she gave him a kiss on the cheek. I thought Tony would give me a kiss on the cheek too but he hit me and threw the flower to the ground and I don’t get it because he was okay when I called him my special friend but—dad?”_

_“Blaine, why did you want a kiss from Tony?”_

_“Because I like him.”_

_“That’s wrong. If you like a guy you don’t want a kiss or any of that stuff that mom and dad do. That stuff is meant to happen between boys and girls not boys and boys. If you wanted to be Tony’s friend you should have asked him to play ball or give them a baseball card.”_

_“But what if I want to hold his hand?”_

_“That’s wrong, Blaine.”_

_“Why?”_

_“Because only boys and girls can hold hands.”_

_“My hand won’t fit in another boy’s hand?”_

_“No, Blaine, they aren’t meant to fit. You should only hold a girl’s hand.”_

_“Okay, dad. Dad?”_

_“Hmm?”_

_“I don’t have any baseball cards.”_

He told his aunt of the conversation and was sure that she would agree with his dad. In fact, he expected her to stop touching him and start shunning him just like his dad. Of course his dad was ignoring him. He would ignore himself too if he could. He was a freak. He didn’t want to admit to himself earlier that that was the reason his father was acting so stand-offish but when he thought about it he knew it was true. He still remembered the exasperated and sorrowful look on his father face.  He felt the shame rise in his stomach like the red blush building on the back of his neck. It twisted about inside him like a disease slowly eating him alive.  He buried his face deeper into his pillow.

“Champ, there is nothing wrong with liking boys.”

“I _don’t_ like boys.”

Blaine shivered and bunched his legs up to his chest when she pulled the blanket the rest of the way off him. She pulled him up and embraced him tightly. Not expecting such warmth and welcome, Blaine gasped in the scent of her hair, rose pedal and dusty cloth. After a few seconds he threw his arms around her and clutched to her like she was saving him from drowning. She didn’t hate him for being wrong. Maybe she would fix him.

“Hey, Blaine,” she whispered, her voice muffled by his mess of curly hair. He could feel her breath move through the strands of his hair before she placed a small kiss on top of them. “Even if you don’t like boys I want you to know that there is nothing wrong with that. Love is love and it shouldn’t be blocked because people are ignorant to what love requires. If you ever meet a guy that likes guys or a girl that likes girls don’t tell them what your father told you. Don’t tell them that they are wrong or disgusting for following their hearts.”

Blaine laughed and pulled away. He stuck out his tongue and shook his head, suddenly uncomfortable.

“Right, too much mushy talk eh champ?” She scrunched up her nose in a smile as she pushed some curls away from his forehead. He gave her a watery smile as her fingers traced over the moon drawn on his forehead.

Eagar to change the subject Blaine stood up and fished around in his pocket for the carnival flier.

“Can I go?” Blaine’s voice cracked as he spoke causing him to blush and look down at his untied tennis shoes. He didn’t want her to get all skew-y insightful again. She snatched the flier from his grip and glanced at him suspiciously before reading over its bold lettering.

After a long pause she responded. “Of course you can.”

Blaine beamed and practically jumped up and down before giving her another hug. Maybe Blaine would see _him_ there.

 

 **“I’m going now,”** he announced as he pulled his jacket on. His aunt put a thumb up in approval. A wet rag was over her eyes and another steaming cup of tea was sitting on the side table next to her bed. “Do you need me to do anything for you before I go?”

Her headaches occurred like clockwork. Every night just after sunset she would have to lie down in the dark and wait out headache after headache until she was able to go to sleep. The first night Blaine stayed there he heard her faint crying in the dead of night. Her cries made him feel useless. His worries enhanced with the knowledge that she cared enough to tell him he wasn’t wrong. Whether she was lying or not it still meant the world to him that she would go to lengths to comfort him. Giving her comfort was the least he could do in return.

“Go and have fun, I’ll still be here when you get back and you can pamper me then.”

With that Blaine was out of the stuffy cabin and into the chilly, open crisp air of the night. He strolled happily toward the glittering lights of the carnival and breathed in the scent of pine and dirt with a greedy mixture of buttered popcorn and sugary cotton candy. It was intoxicating. The slight breeze tugged at the lapels of his polyester jacket like the carnival was pulling him towards the sounds of his laughing peers. He smiled and quickened his step. There was no need for lost boys and imaginary friends when all the excitement was real. Tomorrow he would join them, but tonight was a compilation of real senses, salty sugary smells, sticky grainy textures, and brilliantly colored sights.

He entered under a large arch with flashing, colorful lights and didn’t have time to gape at it when another attraction caught his eye. The ferris wheel was large and touching the curve of the full moon. Blaine, momentarily pausing to press a finger against the drawing on his forehead, ran through the crowds of people until he reached the large contraption. The grinding and whining sounds of the old ferris wheel were unheard as he stared up at it with his mouth agape. The reflection of the multicolored lights flittered across his glistening wide and hopeful eyes.

 His grin fell when he heard the giggles and whispers of a familiar group of girls.  He cringed and started to ease away from their voices when they yelled in unison “garbage boy!” He bolted behind a nearby booth and army crawled his way to find any form of safety. The giggling girls spent a good thirty minutes looking for him as he dodged from booth to booth and ride to ride trying to escape them. Finally when he was sure they were gone—if he can’t see them they can’t see him, right?—he dusted the pine needles and dirt off his camp pants and stealthily makes his way to the ferris wheel.

He edged his way into the substantial line of kids and kept his eyes on his feet as more kids crowded behind him. He heard their giggling again a few people behind him and he tried to blend in as much as possible as he steadily got closer to the entrance of the ferris wheel. It was going to help him touch the moon. His hopeful heart slowed to a dull pace when he heard the words “it has to be two to a seat, no one sits by themselves” coming from the grouchy voice of the ride operator. He stepped back involuntary. He didn’t have anyone to sit with and he didn’t want to force someone to sit with him. He took another step back and felt his back brush against someone else.

“Sorry,” he said quickly as he turned around to see the most recent victim of his awkwardness. His apologetic Blaine Anderson puppy eyes™ went from wide and worried to crinkled up with a smile when he saw Wallflower behind him, looking a little pleased and yet dubious as he returned a hesitant smile. His heart did a little skip of happiness when he saw a mess of red, orange, and yellow marks on Wallflower’s cheek. A drawing of the sun colored his cheek. “Hey, Tina’s work?”

He got a nod in response and felt a satisfied warmth surge through him again only to have it be doused by the operator’s “two to a seat” mantra a few steps away from them.

He hesitated and looked down at the kid’s hands, one his holding his bulky Discman while the other was stuffed in the large pocket of his hoodie. Maybe he could…? “Uhm, will you go on the ferris wheel with me?” When he looked up to calculate a reaction he felt warm again. The kid’s tentative smile had turned into a wide grin to match Blaine’s.

“Hey, kids. You gonna hold up the line all night?” Blaine turned to see that they were at the front of the line. His response got lost halfway up his throat from the shock of the feeling of fingers entwining with his own in a strong, determined grip. The boy led them toward the large, creaking, contraption as Blaine stared at their hands with surprise. He fumbled behind, a confused smile crossed his lips at the new strangeness before him. Their hands weren’t supposed to fit but the smooth slide of fingers between fingers and the touch of palm to palm contradicted that. It was strange but wonderful.

 

 **The boy’s fingers tapped out a rhythm on the back of Blaine’s hand after they were seated in a chipped red gondola**. Blaine could hear music playing out of the boy’s headphones that were resting on his neck, loud, fuzzy beats. He could barely hear the beat that was being so steadily tapped onto the back of his hand over the chattering of their other peers on the ride. It was like watching the boy dancing in the sand again, he could hear the beats through the touch and vision.

 The boy was leaning back in his seat and looking up in the sky, his head bobbing back and forth. Blaine chuckled and then looked down at the boy’s legs.  They were swinging through the air, his feet twisting along with each tap of his fingers. He grinned and followed the boy’s gaze, the moon was getting closer as they steadily reached the top of the ride.

Much to Blaine’s surprise, the grip that was loose quickly turned tight and rigid as they came to a slow stop.  He glanced over to see the boy wide-eyed and terrified.

“Are you-are you afraid?”

“Yes.”

A vocal answer was not what Blaine expected. It surprised him so much that he jumped a little, which distracted his friend a little bit from their height so far above the ground. The thing that really shocked him was the soft and clear tone that Wallflower’s voice had, he was half-expecting the boy to speak only in whispers. That single word shook Blaine’s world around like he was in a glass globe being tossed about in his friend’s smooth hands.

“I don’t like-”the boy stopped his continuation when the ferris wheel jerked back into motion. He shut his eyes tight, squeezed Blaine’s hand tighter, and finished with, “-heights!” the ferris wheel started to move again, jerking them forward slightly and causing the boy to panic. He closed his eyes and swung his free arm around to grab the middle of Blaine’s shirt. He then buried his face in the handful of shirt he managed to grab.

“It’s okay,” Blaine said, channeling his older brother—who was always so cool and collected whenever they watched scary movies together—and using his own free hand to gently pat the boy on the back. “Everyone is afraid of something.”

The boy looked up at him, his eyes shining with tears from embarrassment and fear. He nodded his head slowly, pulled away, and then loosened his grip on Blaine’s hand a little.  Feeling that this was a sign that he didn’t want to hold Blaine’s hand, Blaine withdrew it completely.

“N-no,” the boy furrowed his eyebrows and grabbed at Blaine’s hand again. “I need it.”

Blaine smiled quietly to himself and rubs his thumb against the back of the boy’s hand for comfort. He was hopeful that since this boy was willing to hold his hand maybe he would let Blaine give him a flower. Even if it was wrong at least he wouldn’t be alone in being wrong.

They stopped at the bottom so the gondola in front of them could get some new passengers. As Blaine absentmindedly watched a boy and girl shuffle their way into their seats a sudden thought struck him; why would this boy ride a ferris wheel if he was so terrified of heights? He’s about to ask when the ride jerked to life again and the two kids in front of them start arguing loudly.

“Did you really have to bug the guy about safety?”

“Safety is impotent, Tina.”

“Important.”

“That’s what I said!”

“No! You said ‘impotent.’ That’s not even a word, dummy.”

Blaine raised his eyebrows and looked over at the boy next to him. The curious stare was returned with a simple, awkward smile.

“Ugh Wes! I’m never asking you to hang out with me again.”

“Good, I don’t want you trying to draw on me again!”

“Shut up! Shut up! Never talk to me again, Wes! You can’t even say words right!”

He watched with mild amusement as Tina and Wes scooted as far as they could from each other. He concentrated on the two of them for a few seconds longer until his hand was gripped so tightly he winced and his gaze is turned to his friend. He realized they were stopped on the top of the ride again just as the boy brought his hand up to cover his eyes. Worried for his friend, he pulled his hand away and picked up the set of headphones sitting in between them. The boy panicked and reached frantically for Blaine’s hand, which Blaine swatted away. Getting the thick headphones back around the boy’s ears was a momentarily difficult task as the latter continued to panic and jump. When he finally managed to get the headphones in place the boy calmed a bit.

“Music will help you,” Blaine said quietly. “It always helps me.”

As Blaine began to pull his hands away his friend grabbed at his hand and muttered, “both please. Listen to my music with me.” The boy opened his eyes wide enough to stare inquiringly at Blaine. Blaine nodded and scooted closer as the boy reached up his other shaky hand to turn the headphone nearest Blaine out toward him. Blaine smiled softly as he leaned in and listened to music with their fingers intertwined and arms linked.  The first song, though loud and fast, and the warmth of his friend against him put Blaine in what felt like a dream state. The boy smelled like a dream too, like flower petals and burnt cold wood. Blaine imagined that this is what a fairy would smell like. He closed his eyes and imagined that he and his companion were sitting on the back of a large eagle white it flew high above the earth, defining gravity with the two of them in tow, leaving all that remained stiff and realistic behind them.

They listened to a few more songs before they were roused out of their solitary moments by the shouting coming from the seats around them.

“Why haven’t we stopped?” Wes shouted, his voice cracking with fear. “This is out of order! I do not like this!” He shouted even louder.

Blaine sat up and wiped his mouth. He was slowly waking up from his dream like state and almost prone to laugh at Wes’ shrillness when the fingers gripping around his hand squeezed him in fear. He still wasn’t fully aware of everything around him until he looked up at his friend to see that his brows were furrowed and his eyes were shinning with tears.

“Wes is right, we have been going around for too long. We haven’t stopped.” The boy said, sitting up in the gondola and peering below them before cringing back against the back of the seat.

Blaine, still slightly dazed that his friend just spoke two full sentences, looked around slowly to see that a crowd of grownups were surrounding the bottom of the ferris wheel while the kids were yelling and crying. “What?” Blaine asked, still a bit dumbfounded.

“We aren’t stopping,” the boy said in a harsh whisper. His headphones slipped down his neck.

The grip on Blaine’s hand tightened and he could feel his fingers starting to go numb. He flashed a reassuring smile.

“We’ll be ok-”

The ride jolted to a stop and sent Blaine forward into the lap bar. After recovering from the shock Blaine quickly looked at his friend. The moonlight was accenting a single tear on the boy’s cheek and it gave Blaine a little ache in his stomach. He leaned over and wiped at the tear, smearing the sun on his face. The yellows and reds of the sun stretched out across the boy’s cheek as and ended at the corner of his eye.

“I’m scared.”

“I’m here.”

The boy smiled weakly and wiped at his face with his free hand, smearing the colors even more.

“You smeared the sun,” Blaine pressed on the side of the boy’s face with his thumb. “It looks like rays of sunshine.” He laughed a little, earning a bigger smile from his friend.

The boy quickly licked his finger and ran it over Blaine’s forehead.

“Moonbeam.”

They laughed for a few seconds before someone shouted from below and they were snapped back into the reality of the situation. “Are you kids okay up there?”

Blaine didn’t bother trying to respond over the cries of his peers.

“Get me down from here! My parents will hear about this!”

“Shut up, Wes!”

“I have to pee!”

“I’m cold!”

“I think I’m allergic to this seat! I’m going to get a rash!”

“What if I fall asleep and fall right off?! I’m so tired!”

Blaine could hear the girls behind them crying and the adults below trying to comfort them, but all he wanted to do was look at the moon and hold his friend’s hand. Blaine leaned back against the hard metal of the gondola, and pulled his feet up onto the seat before nudging his partner.

“You never told me your name,” he stated calmly, hoping that his tone would keep his friend at ease. It always worked when his mother used it on him.

His friend blushed, the red of his cheeks causing the colors of the sun to accent even brighter against the lights of the carnival and moonlight. He shook his head and looked away, too shy to label himself with a name. Blaine chuckled and nudged the boy as he avoided looking down.

“Fine, I’m calling you Sunshine.” Blaine meant for it to be a challenge but by the way his friend’s mouth turned up in a small smile he knew he was already defeated.

“I like that.”

Blaine frowned, a little disappointed that his plan backfired on him.

“Anything is better than Wallflower,” he continued. “That makes me sound like a girl!” Sunshine stuck out his tongue in disgust. The expression made Blaine’s frown turn into a tiny smile. “What’s your name?”

“Not telling,” Blaine put his nose up in the air in defiance.

“Then I’ll call you Moonbeam,” Sunshine said, pressing a finger to Blaine’s forehead.

Blaine rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide his grin. “Does this mean we are friends now?”

“I thought we already were.”

Blaine smiled shyly and looked down at the abandon headphones sitting on Sunshine’s lap. He picked them up with his free hand.

“Do you want to listen to more music?” he asked quietly, “I think we’re stuck up here.” Sunshine rejected this offer which disappointed Blaine, he wanted to go back to leaning against him and peacefully listen to the shared music while they waited for the ride to fix.

“Can we talk instead?” Sunshine asked with a weak, hopeful smile. Blaine returned the smile, it was definitely more than he could have hoped for.

While the other kids whined about being sleepy and needing to go to the bathroom Sunshine and Moonbeam pretended that they were climbing a dangerous cliff and the worrying adults below were alligators only pretending to worry when really they wanted to eat their tender child flesh. (“They are cannibals! They are going to eat us!” “Silly Moonbeam, if they were cannibals they would be eating each other, not us.”)

They soon lost interest in that adventure—as most children do when they are trying to one up each other’s imagination skills—they pretended that Wes and Tina were a bickering ghost couple that they had to defeat with their invisible “ghost-bullet” guns.

“Be quiet, you’re making me nervous!” Wes shouted as Blaine aimed his fingers at the back of his head and made loud _pew pew pew!_ noises.

“Shut up, Wes! You aren’t the boss of him!” Tina yelled just as a ladder was put up next to their gondola.

“This is unacceptable! I’m not climbing down that ladder! Shouldn’t they bring an ambulance?”

“Shut up!” Tina muttered, flipping her hair around with anger as she made her way down the ladder. “I hate you.” She grumbled even more quietly. Wes pouted and then glared at Blaine when he caught the latter staring.

Blaine held onto his friend’s hand while he went down the first few rungs in the ladder but hesitantly let go when the reach was too far for both of them. When both of his feet were steady on the ground he peered up and waited anxiously for Sunshine to descend. The boy’s black hair was sticking out of the side of the gondola, his eyes barely peeking over the edge and glistening with fresh, terrified tears.

“Come down, Sunshine,” Blaine called out as an adult put their hands on his shoulders and tried to pull him away. “Come down! Save me from the crocodiles!” He squirmed under the grip of the adult, attempting to show his friend that he was in need of help.

The reaction was instant and more than he had expected. Blaine’s eyes grew round with shock as Sunshine scrambled down the ladder. Before Blaine could congratulate his friend he was being gripped around the waist and pulled away from the confused grown-up.  Blaine gasped in surprised at the boy’s strength as he was hoisted up over Sunshine’s shoulder.

“You two get back here!”

Sunshine ran around the ferris wheel carrying Moonbeam until he got tired and the adults finally caught them. They were forced to wear blankets on their shoulders. (“You are in shock, blankets will help!”) And they were forced to sit on a bench near the large campfire.

Blaine looked around at his peers, they were all teary-eyed and shaken and clutching onto their blankets for moral support. His friend had a small smile on his face and his blanket was sliding slowly off his shoulders. Blaine watched him unashamedly as he stretched his arms out and yawned.

“Stop staring at me!” Sunshine pouted and pushed Blaine teasingly away.

“Sorry,” Blaine said in a not-so-sorry tone. After a brief pause Blaine mustered up the courage to ask, “why did you talk to me?” He looked down at his feet which were dangling from the bench.

“Because you talked to me.”

“Other people talk to you.” As soon as Blaine said it, he wasn’t really sure if it was true.

“I know.”

“You don’t talk to them.”

“I don’t want to talk to them.”

“And you want to talk to me?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

Sunshine brought his feet up onto the bench and rested them on Blaine’s lap as he stretched out on the bench, his blanket now tight around him.

“Hey! Not fair! Leave some room for me!” Sunshine rolled his eyes and took his feet off Blaine’s lap and onto the bench so his knees were high and hiding his face from Blaine’s view. Blaine mirrored Sunshine’s actions with a smirk as the toes of their shoes touched. He looked up at the stars above them and pretended that they were alien spaceships. The only way the two of them could remain safe from said Aliens was if they stayed completely still. After a short while Blaine lost his concentration on such a life-saving task and began to fidget uncomfortably.

“I can’t see you,” he complained, nudging Sunshine’s toe with his foot to get his attention.

“You don’t need to see me. You can hear me right?”

“Yeah.”

“Then I’m still here.”

Blaine smiled, content with that thought. He playfully nudged Sunshine again and got a nudge in return. They began a little game of nudging until the heat of the fire and the softness of the blanket pulled Blaine into a dream. He could hear the soft breathing from his friend and felt like it gave him permission to finally doze off.

 

 **He dreamed not only of crocodiles forming into adults and bickering ghosts but bright sunrises and tiny moons dancing around beams of light breaking through layers of trees**.  He dreamed of Sunshine’s small smile in the moonlight and the warmth of fingers so perfectly entwined with his own.  In his dreams they were sitting on the branches of a tree that was so high they could touch clouds and feel the warmth of the sun on their backs and the breeze tugging at the strands of hair on the back of their heads while the trees and crocodiles below them turned into blurs and swirls of color.

He heard, like it was far away and out of reach, his aunt’s voice in the distance. Her voice, though usually strong and clear and comforting, was exasperated and worn. Was she calling him back? Or was she chastising someone else? Yes, it seemed like she was calling someone else.

“Jonathan,” Blaine opened his eyes slowly as her loud whispering accosted his dreams.  “Jonathan, he is fine. Yes, I know it was a mistake to let him go alone but there were other adults there and you know how bad my headaches get. You should have seen the boy, he wanted to go so badly.”

His nose took in the scent of his cabin bed as he breathed in before slowly, drowsily sitting up. The springs of the mattress groaned under his weight as he sat at the edge of his bed and rubbed his eyes. He looked away from her and watched the sun flitting through the smudged windows of the cabin. The trees outside were giving the glow of the morning sun a dancing effect across the wooden floor.

His eyes slowly moved from the shadows of the leaves to his aunts feet, slowly getting entangled in the cord of the cabin phone. Blaine quickly realized the great conspiracy before him, the wires were a trap set by pirates to capture the beautiful Jane goddess.  Taking quick and brave action, Blaine jumped from the bed and lunged toward the entrapping cords.  He pulled a few tangles loose as she continued to talk in a disgruntled tone to the phone—trap, the phone call was a trap!—when she realized what Blaine was doing her eyebrows furrowed before a small smile crinkled her eyes. She chuckled a little as she jumped out of the cords. “I’m not going to make him stay in the cabin all day, that’s ridiculous. Jonathan, we are already getting enough complaints from other parents already. They’re threatening to shut us down.” She jumped over one more cord and was successfully free. Her feet were tiny, dancing instruments, attached to graceful limbs. Perhaps she was not a Jane goddess, but a Jane ballerina dancing her way out of the pirates grasp.

_“Why are you making him watch this? Are you trying to turn him into a queer?”_

_“Be quiet, Jonathan. Blaine likes it.”_

_“Let’s put on some football. There’s a game on tonight and Blaine likes football.”_

_“Can the football players dress like the dancers, dad?”_

_“Blaine, football players are guys and dancers are girls. Guys don’t wear dresses. It’s wrong.”_

He was roused out of his memories by two fingers snapping in front of his face.

“What did you want, champ?”

“Can I go out and play?”

“You don’t want to stay here and help your aunt?” She said with a teasing smile wrinkling up her smooth skin and indenting her dimples. Her smile faltered when she saw the look on Blaine’s face. “I’m only joking. The other kids have all of today off because of the fiasco last night. Go out and take this opportunity to make some friends.”

Blaine jumped into action and began to tug on his shoes.  He began to hop toward the door as he pulled the tongue of his second sneaker and said, “I already have a friend.”

“Oh?” His aunt opened the door for him, her teasing smile still present.

“Yeah, I’m going to find him, bye!” Blaine said just as he finished with his second shoe. He quickly bolted out onto the short dirt path leading to the cabin. He didn’t want her to change her mind.

“No kissing, Blaine. You’re too young for that.” She called after him, her laughter ringing after her words. Blaine stumbled, his face burning red, but chose not to respond to her teasing.

He made his way to the last place he saw Sunshine, the carnival bench they fell asleep on, and was disappointed to find that his friend wasn’t there. He was half-hoping that their connection was so strong they could just follow their instincts to find each other.

Blaine did eventually find Sunshine after looking in a few more places, worrying that he was just imagining Sunshine, passing by giggling girls, and ignoring a scolding and scowling Wes.

He was sitting on the edge of an old dock propped over the lake. He was crouched, his feet keeping the rest of his body as it leaned dangerously over the edge of the dock. His hand was extended over the calm and quiet morning water and as Blaine got closer he saw small white petals escaping Sunshine’s lose grip and falling slowly down into the water, delicate ripples following each time a petal met the water.

It was like watching someone else’s dream with the rising sun shining through the tips of Sunshine’s dark hair, turning them a dirty orange color from Blaine’s perspective. The petals curved with breeze like they were struggling to fight gravity and were temporally winning the battle thanks to the gentle nudges of the wind.

Blaine hesitated taking any steps closer. He didn’t want to disturb the peaceful smile on Sunshine’s face, but he also wanted to be the cause of such quiet content. He looked around wildly to see something that would snatch Sunshine’s attention and admiration as much as the beautiful white petals and only spotted a large piece of driftwood illuminated by the sun on the lake. But suddenly that driftwood was a large, menacing pirate ship looming closer and gaining speed on the clear ocean waters. If Blaine were to look behind him there would be a large beach before a grand and vast tropical forest with swinging vines and abnormal trees that grew crazy things like coconuts.

“We should run,” Blaine said with a whispered hiss that was loud enough to catch Sunshine’s attention. Sunshine wobbled for a second from the surprise but quickly corrected himself by standing up. Blaine then knew that Sunshine was like his aunt, a graceful creature incapable of fumbles.  Sunshine raised a curious eyebrow, his smile still there. The smile gave Blaine enough courage to present his plan. He pointed at the pirate ship, Sunshine whipped around to see the object, before saying. “Pirates!”

Without question Sunshine shoved the remaining petals into his pockets and scrambled toward the shore toward Blaine. Of course the dock was falling apart behind each step due to its ricketiness and the cannon balls being shot by the pirates. Sunshine leaped easily from the shaking plants and onto solid sand without so much as a trip.  The new footing and surface was easily adapted to and Sunshine was soon kicking up dirt behind his feet as he bolted toward the forest, grabbing Blaine’s hand and yanking him along. Blaine tumbled after his friend, definitely not as graceful a creature.

“Come on, Moonbeam!” Sunshine shouted as they passed the lunch hall that had morphed into the ruins of an army ship.

“You move too fast!” Blaine gasped, making sure to dodge around a huge boulder that was once the garbage bin. Soon branches were flicking into them as they plunged into the forest. They were the lost boys running from vicious youth stealing pirates, getting scratches from low branches and pine needles flipping around their feet as their feet pushed heavily against the forest ground. Blaine looked around eagerly, watching his steps but enjoying the scenery as well.

It was this scenery that distracted him from Sunshine abruptly stopping, causing Blaine to crash into him. They both tumbled further into the clearing.

“Why did you stop?” Blaine groaned as he sat up, wiping the various dirt, leaves, and pine needles off his shirt.

“Pirates can’t fly,” Sunshine said in a casual tone. Blaine, still confused, looked over at his friend to see that he was looking above them. Blaine looked up as well to see the branches of easily the oldest tree in the entire world, according to the mind and imagination of a nine- year-old.  Its branches were twisty while its roots jutted up from the dirt and weeds below it, Blaine thought that if the tree had a brain then it would crawl around like a large spider tree, destroying all the enemies of the trees and eating sheets of paper to replenish itself.

“It’s awfully high,’ Blaine said, worried about his friends fear. Sunshine smile faltered for a moment before Blaine continued. “But I’ll sing to you, music always helps.” The statement earned a grin. “Do you have any more pixie dust?”

“Pixie dust?”

Before Blaine could explain his idea the boy was digging into his pockets and pulling out more white petals, they were partly brown and bent from being scrunched up in a pocket for so long but as Sunshine threw them into the air they sparkled. The twinkling pixie dust felt warm on Blaine’s face as it trickled down on him and Sunshine. They stood up as Sunshine pulled out two more fistfuls of magic and threw into the air. Blaine spun around and around so every brush of the pixie dust touched his skin.

But their brief moment of magic dust absorption was interrupted mid-twirl by the loud incriminating snap of a stranger twig. “Pirates!” Blaine wailed and scrambled toward the tree. He jumped up for the nearest branch of the tree; his fingers barely grasped the delicate leaves of the branch before gravity was pulling him back down. “I can’t fly high enough,” Blaine felt his heart pounding heavily in his chest as he jumped again; he was panicked and anxious to be out of the wicked pirate’s trap. Suddenly, hands that were warm with magic were gripping his waist and hoisting him up with ease so Blaine could get a better grip on the branch and scramble his way into a balanced position. Blaine reached his hand down to help Sunshine up only to take it back quickly as Sunshine used the balance of another tree nearby to kick off and climb onto the branch nearest Blaine like a magical fairy monkey. Blaine stared in momentary awe at his friend only to be distracted by two loud and annoying voices.

“Garbage boy!” The pirates were getting closer.

“Shit,” Blaine muttered. This caused his friend to burst into a fit of nervous giggles. Blaine, frustrated and desperately to keep a good balance like Sunshine, stuck out his tongue in defiance.

“You said a bad word,” Sunshine said before burying his head in his hands to avoid looking down.

“Dad said that it’s okay to say bad words when your favorite team is losing,” Blaine said, still clinging to his branch as he watched his friend, so easily balanced against his smaller branch, avoid looking down. Blaine grabbed his friend’s foot, it was the only thing he could reach without letting go and falling to his bloody, gruesome death. The touch seemed to calm Sunshine down a bit, at least enough for him to peek out from behind his fingers to look at Blaine and smile weakly.

Blaine took a breath and sang the first song that came to his mind.  “ _I can show you the world, shining, shimmering, splendid, tell me—Sunshine now when did you last let your heart decide. I can open your eyes, take you wonder by wonder over, sideways, and under and a magic carpet ride…”_ as he sang Sunshine’s hand’s slowly moved from his face and he started to stare at Blaine with rapt attention. By the end of the song Blaine was practically whispering it so the girls calling for him wouldn’t find their hiding spot.

They eventually did after passing under the tree a third time.

“What are you guys doing?” One of the girls asked.

“Go away,” Blaine hissed. “No pirates allowed!”

“We aren’t pirates!”

“Yeah, we’re girls. Come down here, we wanna play too!”

“No! Sunshine and Moonbeam only. No pirates.”

“We aren’t pirates!”

The girls then tried to climb the tree with very little success as Blaine and Sunshine were taking up too much space on the only two closest branches. When the girls demanded that they climb higher to give more room for them Sunshine shook his head fervently, clinging even tighter to the branch nearest him.

“Baby!” One of the girls said, stamping the ground with her foot.

“Brat!” Blaine shouted back, feeling protective of his friend’s feelings. They swatted a few more childish insults before the girls finally gave up and stormed away, claiming that they were going to find a better tree somewhere else.

“Let’s get out of here before they come back,” Blaine swung down from the tree and landed on his feet, only to buckle on impact and stumble and fall forward into the white petals they left there. He blushed as he stood up and brushed himself off again. He had a momentary lapse of apprehension, feeling that Sunshine might laugh at him for his blunder.

Instead the boy acted like nothing happened as he swung down from his branch with a grace that Blaine would be envious of if he wasn’t so awed.  Sunshine moved as smoothly as the dancers in those shows his mother watched, except he was a boy and boys shouldn’t dance. He was staring at his friends with eyebrows knitted together in thought. Sunshine was suddenly aware of the staring and a blush rose in his cheeks and he turned away.

“What do we do now?” Sunshine asked, still not looking over at Blaine.

“As much as we can I guess.”

They continued to play in the trees behind the campground, making sure not to go too far so they didn’t get lost. Even when the bell rang for lunch they acted as if it were the warrior call of the native inhabitants getting ready to attack them for invading their land. They dodged trees and avoided girl pirates, leaped around little streams and threw rocks into an old barrel. The only thing that could wake them up from their imagination was the moon bathing them in temporary pale blue light that crept through flittering leaves above them. The night threw a spell over the world and the only way they could save it was to fall asleep. Their walk back to the lights of the campgrounds was slow and full of whispers and quiet laughter.

“Tomorrow, I’ll bring more pixie dust so we can use it like bread crumbs and go deeper into the jungle.” Sunshine says as they step out of the trees together.

“Where did you get it?” Blaine asked, thinking of the delicate white petals from earlier that day.

“A secret place that I’ll show you tomorrow if you want.”

“Yes, please?” Blaine didn’t want to sound too eager but he really did want to find that source of magic that made Sunshine real.

They walked together until they needed to go their separate ways but they stood together instead, feet awkwardly scuffing the sand as they tried to think of more to say to each other. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Sunshine?” The boy smiled weakly, obviously tired, his lips smacking like he was in some kind of happy, flying-high state. Blaine thought he looked a little goofy with his eyes drooping and his black hair messed with the day’s adventure.

“I’ll be a ninja and I’ll be able to hide from class like Tina.”

“You don’t have t-”

“I want to. Good night Moonbeam.”

Blaine was glad he had the cover of moonlight to make his cheeks look like a soft pale blue instead of the flaming red of embarrassment the daylight would have shown. He began to walk slowly toward his cabin. He could see the shadow of his aunt leaning over the fireplace with her forehead in her hands and felt a stab of guilt before quickening his step to get to her fast.

He was nearly at the door when he was tapped on the shoulder. He whirled around, momentarily afraid, but recognized the campfire and flower petal scent of his friend. Blaine turned and stared at Sunshine with confusion. The boy was smiling shyly and holding up a simple white flower. Blaine looked down at it and then back up at its owner, still curious.

“A magical flower that only shines when a Moonbeam touches it,” Blaine was speechless as he reached for the small, wilting, white flower. He held it up to his face and stared at it in wonder. To someone else the flower would have looked dismal; one of the petals had been ripped until the only thing left was a small piece of white sticking out a little from the stem; another petal was bent down so it was no longer lined up with the others; the stem was bent to the point of breaking, the cabins light showing a dark crease along the tiny green length. Yes, to the average person this flower would have been garbage, but to Blaine it was the most glorious thing that was ever given to him. It was a sign of acceptance and friendship. The flower glowed in his touch just like his friend said it would.

“I was going to give it to you sooner but I-I—I didn’t.”

“Why?”

“I have to go or-”

“Oh okay.”

Blaine was again surprised when Sunshine leaned in and kissed him lightly on the cheek. It was like someone had brushed a feather against the side of his face, soft and almost non-existent, a few inches away and Blaine wouldn’t have felt it at all. In fact if Blaine’s eyes weren’t wide open he would have been convinced it was a dream. Though a part of him still thought that it maybe was a dream as he watched Sunshine smile at him and then hurriedly turn away, after a moment of lingering panic Blaine was sure that he wasn’t dreaming and for once he was okay with reality.

 

 **“Do you have an explanation young man?”** His aunt said as she towered over him, a giantess with her hands on her hips. Blaine looked up at her with the best puppy dog look that he could muster. The flower was lightly gripped in his fingers as he hid it behind his back so she wouldn’t threaten to throw it away in a fit of giantess rage.

“I’m sorry,” he finally said, drawing out his words to express just how sorry how he was.  “We got lost?”

She brought her fingers up to the bridge of her nose and rubbed as if she was in deep thought. “You got lost or did you pretend to get lost? I haven’t seen you all day. You are lucky some of the teen counselors like to get frisk—uh eh like to hang out with each other in the woods or I would have had no idea where you were.” Blaine could see her eyes starting to shine with tears of frustration that he sometimes saw his mom try to hold back whenever he and Cooper got too out of hand. He felt the guilt grow stronger when her hand moved up to her forehead.

“But we were being chased by pirates,” he said weakly, hoping that it would pass as a good excuse. He instantly closed his mouth when he had the chance to look up at her. She wasn’t looking at him, her eyes were still shining but she was looking up at the ceiling as she tried to fight tears back. He reached up and tried to wipe away the single tear that had escaped. She let out a laugh and weakly swatted his hand away, before crouching down to embrace him.

“I’m not upset with you, Blaine,” she whispered, causing the curls behind his ears to movie under her breath. “I just have a huge headache that will make green, icky, goo ooze out of my ears.” She said the last of it with a smile in her tone as she used her long fragile fingers to tickle his sides.

Blaine wiggled out of her grip and tried to suppress his laughter. “That’s crazy, you’re crazy.” He said softly—he did not want to be too loud to spare her headache. He kicked off his shoes and ran to his bed. He clambered on top of it, being careful not to squish his flower as he rested his head on his pillow. He held the flower up to his face and spun it around by pinching the stem between two of his fingers and rubbing them together. The cabin’s orange light flitted behind the white petals, adding to the glow that his touch already provided. A slow smile tugged at the edge of his lips as it watched the magical flower spin in his fingers.

“What’s that you got there, champ?”

“A present from the sun.”

“The sun went down and hour ago.”

“No he didn’t.”

“No _he_ didn’t?”

Instead of answering to her questioning and teasing expression, Blaine blushed furiously and stared at the cabin ceiling.

“Oh don’t be shy, Blaine,” her fingers grabbed his shoulder and she shook him lightly. “You can tell me.”

“My friend, he’s a ray of sunshine.” She looked at him skeptically, forcing Blaine to continue. “I know he’s not _really_ a ray of sunshine. He just warms me like the sun does. I feel warm when he is with me. Or when he looks at me…” he trailed off, mentally admitting defeat to his utter embarrassment

June smiled softly at him and brushed a hand through his curls. “That sounds so wonderful, Blaine. Here you were complaining about having to come here.” She looked momentarily wistful before blinking quickly and asking. “What’s his name?”

“Sunshine.”

“That sounds like a girl’s name.”

Blaine scoffed and nudged her with his arm as he sat up in his bed. “That’s not his real name.”

“What’s his real name?”

“I don’t know,” Blaine answered in a carefree way. He looked at his flower again, trying to imprint everything about it in his memory. He momentarily pretended like he was a robot scanning the image into his inner databases.

“Don’t you want to know his name?”  
Blaine thought about it as he focused on the petal that was bent in as it spun around with the others. “I guess, maybe.” He shrugged, uncommitted to his own statement.

“It isn’t that important to you?”

Blaine nodded, he didn’t think that it mattered that much. In fact, he liked the secrecy of it all, it gave him room to imagine. Maybe Sunshine and his name were supposed to remain a mystery. If Blaine learned his name he might disappear or he might lose his magic.

“What are you going to do with the flower?” His aunt asked after a pause.

“Put it in some water?” Blaine looked up at her, questioning his own answer even though he knew that it was the only solution. But was there a cup small enough for the flower? How was he supposed to take it home? Would he be allowed to hold a flower in a cup of water all the way home? He doubted it. His aunt’s thin face scrunched up into a cute and indecisive expression. Blaine watched her with curiosity. He remembered his mother enviously describing her sister’s beauty surpassing materialistic beauty _(“but she still hasn’t found a nice man to settle down with_ ”) all he saw was kindness in tired eyes and smooth deep laughing lines around her mouth. He saw the shadow of youthful beauty in her wary face and something about it saddened him. She was still pretty to him, she would always be pretty to him.

“No, it won’t last very long if you do that. Why don’t you dry it or press it?”

“What’s that?”

“Well, I believe drying it will be best because it will keep all of its dimensions. Hang it upside down with a string and when all the moister is gone out of flower it will be sort of frozen in that position. Very delicate but still there. You can even put it in a vase in your room.”

The idea brought a frown to his face. “My dad-”

“Oh right,” she said quickly, understanding his apprehension. “Then we’ll press it,” she said as she stood up from the edge of the bed and headed over to her side of the room. He watched her as she rummaged through her luggage. Before he could ask, she pulled out a thick leather bound book. Her eyes wrinkled in a smile as she passed it over to him and sat down on the bed again. The weight was heavier than he was expecting as he held it with his free hand. He eventually dropped it, unable to carry its weight, and it fell with a bouncy thud onto his bed. The faded words embezzled on the cover gave the book a warm and warn atmosphere, old fashioned and attractive.

“Put the flower between the pages,” His aunt instructed, pulling him out of his inquisitive reverie.

“But that will crush it,” Blaine replied stubbornly, pushing the book away with his foot.

“No,” she picked up the book and pointed the binding at him. “It will press it down if you’re careful. And,” she hesitated a little. “You can hide it too. You can keep it forever.” She flipped to the middle of the book. Blaine’s eyes flicked across the open pages, they were covered in small print with tiny illustrations. One was a black and white picture of a young girl with long hair that bundled around her feet. He felt her omniscient gaze on him, she read into his prominent worries; he really was alone and Sunshine was imaginary; his aunt was the bad kind of sick, the kind of sick that killed people. He stared back into her black and white eyes and felt a tiny jolt of fear mixed with curiosity surge through him.  He pulled his eyes away from her picture and looked at the word above her.

“What’s Rap-oon-zil?”

“Rapunzel, Blaine. It’s a fairy tale. Hand me the flower.”

Blaine pouted and handed her the flower, he felt the power flowing through his fingers that gave the flower its glimmer of light disappear as he let go of the stem.  A small smile came to face, it was good to know that only Moonbeam could make it glow.

He watched anxiously as his aunt delicately placed it in the creases of the pages and slid a finger carefully over each petal before she closed the book with a slow and heavy thud, causing Blaine to wince.

“It’ll be fine, Champ.” She slid the book back into his grip and he clung to it, watching as the flower made the pages of the book glow along with it. “I’ll even let you keep the book.”

“It’s a book of fairy tales?”

“Yes.”

“Are fairy tales real?” He remembered asking his mom once when he was younger and she just smiled warmly at him, the way his aunt was doing in that moment. At least his aunt actually answered him.

“I think so,” she said, still smiling fondly. “I like to believe that some of them are true.”

“Can you read them to me?” Blaine looked up at her with wide and pleading eyes.

Her smile continued as she pulled the book away from him. “Just one and then you’ll have to get ready for bed.” Blaine nodded in agreement, shuffled over on his bed so she could sit more comfortably next to him, and cuddled close to her as she flipped the pages of the book open to the page with the flower.

She cleared her throat and started, “There once lived a man and his wife who had long wished for a child, but in vain. Now there was at the back of their house a little window which over looked a beautiful garden…” He listened, brows furrowed in concentration as he focused on the story of Rapunzel. It was a short story but it mystified him, curiosity bubbling interminably inside of him.

“I like that story,” Blaine said in a simply satisfied tone as he jumped off his bed. “It must have sucked to be away from each other that long. Why didn’t they look for each other?” He said through the fabric of the pajama shirt he was pulling over his head.

“Because he was blind and she…well she was too depressed? Maybe she thought he was dead? Maybe she felt guilty for leaving without saying goodbye.”

Blaine stuck his toothbrush in his mouth as he listened to his aunt’s explanations. As he felt the minty, pasty flavor of the toothpaste on his tongue he briefly wondered if Rapunzel ever worried about things like it; if she ever brushed her teeth or got ready for bed like he did; if she read stories or had…imaginary friends?

“Maybe she did look for him,” he said after he finished rinsing. “It just didn’t say,” he yawned loudly and stretched his arms out. He yawned again as he slid under the blankets of his bed, pulling them up to his chin so the cold couldn’t get to him. The days adventures had him thoroughly drain of energy in that single moment. He smiled at his exhaustion, feeling like his day wasn’t wasted, and pulled the book of fairy tales under his arm to cuddle with its warn leather binding.

“I bet he looked for her too, blindness and all,” he listened to the creaking of the floor boards under her graceful feet as she turned off the light and then to the sound of her mattress springs squeaking under her as she lay down in her own bed. She sounded so far. It made him anxious and a tiny bit frightened…just a tiny bit.  

“It must have been nice for her, knowing that her prince looked for her,” he said in hopes for a response from her.

“Maybe you’ll have your own prince to look for you,” she replied sleepily.

“Princes don’t search for other boys, they look for girls,” Blaine said with an irritated huff.

“Blaine,” her voice sounded more awake and serious. “A prince searches for the person he loves, whether boy or girl, he won’t care. He will only care that he loves that person. Nothing, not even gender, can stop love.”

Blaine made a loud, disgusted noise.

“It may gross you out now, but remember when you grow up and find someone that you will love as the Prince loved Rapunzel, and nothing will matter but that love for that person,” her voice started to droop back into sleepiness at the end of her speech.

“But dad said it’s wrong if the hands don’t fit.”

“Hands fit if you want them to.”

 

 **Blaine woke up before the sun the next morning.** Seeing that his aunt was still sound asleep he crept out of bed and kept an eye on her as he changed his clothes as quietly as possible. When he had finished tying his shoes he the sun was creeping into the windows of the cabin. A quiet tapping drew his attention from his shoes and he looked up to see Sunshine standing out the cabin window, with a wide grin on his face and a smear of mud on his cheek. Blaine grinned back and scrambled up to open the door and let his friend in.

Sunshine stepped in and was about to speak before Blaine pushed a hurried hand over his mouth. Blaine twitched his head toward his sleeping aunt as a warning. Sunshine, seeming to understand, nodded. Blaine removed his hand and used it to grab onto Sunshine’s sleeve to lead him further into the cabin. He pulled the book from his bed sheets.

“My aunt pressed the flower for me,” Blaine opened the book to the page with the flattened flower in it, looking apprehensively up at his friend. The smile on Sunshine’s face relieved him.

“My mom does that all the time, she frames them and hangs them up in our hallway and calls it her garden, since we don’t have any room for a real garden.” Sunshine explained in a whisper. Blaine was about to respond but a low grumble from his aunt’s side of the room caused them both to go still and silent. She remained sleeping but Blaine wasn’t going to risk it any longer, he eagerly pushed Sunshine toward the door after carefully setting the book down on his bed.

They crept out of the house and made it a good distance before Sunshine broke into a run toward the line of trees. Blaine tried to keep up, but just as Sunshine was disappearing into the trees he heard his aunt calling out to him and faltered his step, turning to look back at the cabin where she was standing in the doorway. “Be back in time for lunch,” she called, her voice cracking tiredly. Blaine yelled back a sound of consent and darted toward the trees before she could change her mind.

Blaine was relieved to see that his friend had waited for him just past the first trees. He was leaning against the trees with a calmly curious expression on his face. “I have to be back by lunch time,” he pulled his watch out of his pocket and let it dangle from its chain for a second before flipping it open and reading the time (it was still kind of hard for him even as a super-adult- nine-year-old.)

“Is that like a watch?” Sunshine asked, his eyes still wide with curiosity as Blaine let the watch drop from his hand so it spun at the end of its silver rusted chain. 

“Yeah!” Blaine said, holding it up so Sunshine could get a better look at it. “It’s called a pocket watch. I…uhm…borrowed it from my dad’s study.” Blaine continued with a mischievous smile. “Wanna hold it?” Sunshine nodded vigorously and held out a hand. Blaine let the watch and chain drop into Sunshine’s hand and watched with glee as Sunshine opened the clasp of the watch and looked at the hands ticking away.

“It’s really cool.”

“You can hav-you can hold on to it for today if you want.” Blaine _did_ want to give it to Sunshine. He wanted to give Sunshine anything that made him happy. But he needed to put the pocket watch back before his dad found out that he “borrowed” it.  To Blaine’s satisfaction, offering to let Sunshine hold it for the day was good enough as the boy’s already broad smile widened to a pleased grin.

“It will be the first of our treasure on this hunt,” Sunshine said, his face suddenly stoic as he slipped the pocket watch gently into his jacket pocket. His serious look stayed clear on his face as he gazed around their surroundings, only fading when he met Blaine’s gaze. Blaine watched with avid concentration as Sunshine tilted his head toward the deeper end of the trees. “Let’s go get some more treasure.”

They spent the majority of the morning playing near the stream, collecting rocks, blades of grass, and broken bottles placing them all in a pile on a large flat rock near the edge of the river. They had a process for the rocks, Sunshine would dig them out of the bed of the river and then Blaine would rinse them in the river and then dry them off with his shirt. The various smudges and stains were building up on his shirt but he didn’t notice or care as he threw a bright pink rock on top of the pile. He watched with amusement as the impact of the rock caused the materials at the bottom of the pile topple a little so the whole pile stayed the same height but grew in width.  Each rock that Sunshine discovered was colorful and beautiful. This amazed Blaine because all he saw when he peered into the river were masses of gray and black with the occasional color. Maybe this was another magical trait that Sunshine had, the ability to change the color of rocks.

After a few more rocks Sunshine left his post and pulled a smooth, bright, white stone out of the pile. Blaine watched as Sunshine rubbed the stone with his thumb.

Blaine pulled a similar stone out of the pile and pulled it up to his mouth, feeling the smooth texture of it on his lips. Sunshine watched him, his head tilted to the side in confusion. In answer to Sunshine’s silent question Blaine pointed to the rock in Sunshine’s grip, “you try it.” Sunshine shook his head in momentary disgust. “You aren’t gonna die, jeez!”

Sunshine reluctantly pressed the rock against his mouth. After a moment he pulled the rock away. “Softer to my mouth.”

“Cool huh?”

“Yeah,” Sunshine said, his voice quiet as a light blush appeared on his cheeks. Blaine stared at him, knowing that Sunshine was thinking about something and therefore probably going to say something. Knowing that Sunshine rarely spoke to anyone made each sentence a special, exciting, a treat for Blaine, like a ray of warm sun made especially for him. Blaine was shocked when Sunshine suddenly reached out and pressed his fingers against his cheek. “I remember how soft your cheek was.” Sunshine whispered, avoiding Blaine’s stare by staring at his own fingers as they traced down to Blaine’s chin and then up to the corner of Blaine’s mouth. 

Before Blaine could really process any of it Sunshine was pressing a small kiss to his cheek again and pulling away. Sunshine nodded, as though he was confirming his own obscure thoughts. Blaine smiled, the corner of his mouth where Sunshine’s thumb was still pressed tugging up. Suddenly, Sunshine’s eyes were focused on the movement of Blaine’s smile and something changed. The air went suddenly thick with something Blaine couldn’t put words to. It was almost a cushiony feel, like was being surrounded by cotton that dulled every sense but the warm buzzing touch of Sunshine’s hand and the burning feel of his eyes roaming over Blaine’s lips. Blaine felt a rush of fear and excitement flash through him.

But just as Sunshine started to lean in again to answer the question in his focused gaze something else drew his attention. He jumped from his seat and quickly made his way to the river, leaving Blaine to watch him dazedly. “There’s a bee,” Sunshine said, cupping his hands together and scooping something out of the water. His skinny knees were shaking as he focused on his steps and he slowly made his way back to Blaine’s side. He blew lightly on the specimen in his hands. Blaine peered over at his friend before joining in the soft drying of the bee that was buzzing weakly in Sunshine’s hands. After a few minutes Sunshine slowly deposited the bee on a nearby rock so it could fly away whenever it felt up to it.

“Why did you do that?” Blaine asked, his eyes following Sunshine’s every movement while his cheek remained warm where Sunshine had kissed and touched it. He felt a little bit of spiteful jealousy, knowing that Sunshine was probably going to kiss him on the mouth if it weren’t for that stupid bee…not that he wanted to be kissed on the mouth by another boy or anything. (But he would probably be okay with Sunshine kissing him, as an exception of course.)

Sunshine shrugged in response, but Blaine could see a bit of apprehension in his expression as he bit down on his bottom lip. Blaine reached forward and placed a hand on Sunshine’s hand. “It was really cool of you.” Blaine assures him. Sunshine grinned in return which filled Blaine with more bubbling warmth.

The treasure hunters eventually turned into pirates, getting their arms covered in dirt and mud as they dug a whole near the river so they could bury their treasure and hide it away from their enemies. They bundled up the rocks in their shirts, causing them to get even dirtier, and dropped them into the sizeable hole before covering it all with dirt and grass and less extraordinary rocks.

The bell from the lunch hall rang just as the two of them were planning their next adventure (it was really just Blaine rambling off all his ideas and Sunshine timidly shaking or nodding his head.) Blaine mentioned that they should go exploring when lunch is over and Sunshine pulls out another white flower. “We should go to the meadow.” Sunshine suggested just as they were stepping out of the trees.

“Meadow? Where you got moonbeam flower? Are you going to show me?” Sunshine nodded before digging something else out of his pocket. It was a piece of cardboard paper folded tightly.

“Will you meet me there? I made you a map.” He handed the paper over to Blaine. With an excited grin on his face, Blaine unfolded it delicately and let out a laugh at the immaculate detail thrown in to the little hand drawn map.

“Yeah, totally! I can’t wait to see it, I’m going to eat really fast and get there before you,” Blaine said quickly, causing Sunshine to grin so big that his eyes crinkled up and a little dimple showed on his cheek. Blaine looked down at the map again and noticed that the spot was marked by another flower. “That’s where it is?” He asked, pointing at the flower. Sunshine nodded and traced over the path that Blaine should follow, pointing out every marker that he had labeled with scratchy handwriting (Blaine would have to teach him to write more elegantly sometime). “Okay, I’ll see you there!”

“Wait,” Sunshine said and he pulled out the pocket watch, he let the watch drop and swing so Blaine could take it.

“No, keep it and give it back to me later today,” Blaine shook his head while grabbing the watch and stepping close to place it back into Sunshine’s hand.

He was surprised when Sunshine took advantage of their close proximity to each other to place a very dry kiss onto Blaine’s lips.  Blaine went still with shock as the kiss was initiated and Sunshine pulled away, his cheeks bright red and a small bashfully pleased smile on his face.  “See you, Moonbeam,” he said quietly before turning and running away at what was probably his fastest speed.  Blaine watched him, feet glued to the ground. Slowly but steadily a grin grew on his face. He touched his own lips and they felt like they were burning while his stomach swooped pleasantly. There is no way kissing Sunshine could ever be wrong.

He did eventually end up stumbling his way back to his cabin.

 

 **A stupid grin remained on his face until he opened up the cabin and saw an attaché case placed on top of his bed and the finely tailored suit jacket hanging up on the edge of the fireplace.** Blaine, his stomach dropping like a rock inside him, looked around widely until his eyes fell on his father sitting next to the table with his aunt. He apparently interrupted a fierce argument as his dad’s hands were holding some papers up to his aunt’s face while she glared coldly at him, looking astoundingly like Blaine’s mother.

“Dad?” Blaine started as he stepped further into the cabin. “What are you doing here?” His dad quickly tucked the paper away into a folder on the table and turned in his chair to smile at his son. His smile didn’t reach his eyes. Blaine swallowed and took a step back.

“Hey, squirt, I’m here to take you home. Camping time is over. You can eat lunch in the car.” His dad said as he stood up. Blaine looked from his father to his aunt and began shaking his head as he stepped closer to the door. “Blaine, don’t do this right now.” His dad’s smile faded as he spoke. “Get your stuff ready and don’t complain.”

“B-but, dad. I have to stay,” Blaine replied loudly. “Sunshine is waiting for me!”

“What’s this?” His dad said in a tense voice as he glared at Blaine’s aunt like it was her fault.

“Honey,” June said in a calm tone. “Sunshine is going with you.”

“What?” Blaine was excited at the prospect and yet skeptical.

“June, don’t indulge his fantasies. And look at him, he’s a mess. How could you go and let him play around in those woods all alone?” Jonathan said, holding back familiar anger. Blaine watched as the two adults glared at each other. He wasn’t dumb though, he knew what they both thought of Sunshine.

“He’s real,” Blaine grumbled as he started to aggressively pack his bags. His aunt helped him pack, every once and a while she threw his dad hateful looks that would have easily thrown Blaine into fervent apologies if he had been on the receiving end of them, but only caused his father to look on coldly as he put his suit jacket on and grabbed his folder and case.

“Say your goodbyes, I’m going to talk to the idiots that supposedly run this place.” His father said gruffly before leaving the cabin.

“Why do I have to go home? I want to stay here! Sunshine is--”

“He’ll be with you always, Blaine.” June said with a small smile.

“No! He’s real! I didn’t’ make him up!”

“Of course he is real. Never forget about him.” She grabbed the book of fairy tales from her stuff and slid it pointedly into Blaine’s bag. “Keep it safe for me so you can bring it back to me next year, alright Champ?”

“I need to go and say goodbye to Sunshine. I have to see him. He can’t think that I left him.”

“Tell you what,” June said, leaning down to be at eye level with Blaine. “I will tell him that you said goodbye and that you’ll see him next year. Okay?”

Blaine nodded in defeat, tears starting to stream down his eyes. He looked to the cabin door and wondered if he should just make a run for it. “He’s real.” Blaine said croakily. “He’s a pirate, he’s a treasure hunter, he’s a fairy, he is a bee saver. You’ll know who he is when you see him because he has a smile that shines like a sun. I’m his Moonbeam and he’s my Sunshine!”

“Of course he is,” June said. Tears were also showing up in her eyes as she brushed the curls over his forehead and wiped the tears from his cheeks. “Maybe he’ll find you; you’re a treasure too after all.”

“Like when the prince found Rapunzel?”

“Exactly.” She grinned at his response.

They waited a few moments longer until his dad showed up looking furious. “Come on, Blaine. Time to go.”

He embraced his aunt tightly and she whispered a last thought into his ear. “Keep believing in fairy tales, Champ. I love you.” She pressed a kiss to his forehead and let go of him. He nodded and returned the sentiment with a rough whisper.

His dad kept a heavy hand on his shoulder as they walked to the car, but that didn’t stop Blaine from calling out to Sunshine as loudly as he could, hoping that his friend would come into view before he had to get into his car. He looked around for a sign of Sunshine for as long as he could before his dad was yelling at him to get into the backseat. He ended up watching the camp disappear from view of the car’s back window in lieu of sitting down and putting on his seatbelt, much to his father’s growing anger. “I’ll see you next year, Sunshine.” He whispered, hoping that Sunshine’s magic would make his words be heard.

 

 **As day turned to dusk Michael waited**. His hands were fisted around mounds of dirt and crumbled up flowers. There was no way that his Moonbeam would abandon him. Moonbeam could have been lost, Moonbeam could have been injured. Michael was too afraid to leave his spot. He was afraid that if he left Moonbeam wouldn’t be able to find him, and then they would both be lost from each other. Occasionally he would call out, hoping that if Moonbeam was lost he would be able to follow the sound of his voice at the very least.

He didn’t know when he fell asleep but he was woken up by a hand cupping the back of his head. It was still so dark but a single bright light was shining in his face.

“Moonbeam?” He asked, sitting up quickly.

“Hey junior” A voice said, it definitely wasn’t his friend.

“Dad?” He was still a little dazed from sleepiness and surprise as he was pulled into a tight embrace.

“I found him!” His father called out and a general outcry of relief surrounded them. The next thing Michael knew a blanket was being wrapped around his shoulders and someone was pressing a sticky kiss to his forehead.

“He’s so cold, let’s get him to the car.” He peered around at the sound of his mother’s voice.

“Mom, where is Moonbeam? Did he send you hear? Is he okay?”

“Who sweetie?”

“My friend, is he lost?”

“Michael,” his mother said, her voice suddenly serious as she looked up at his father. “There is another boy lost in here.”

“That can’t be,” Michael recognized another voice, one of the camp leaders. “All the kids are accounted for.”

“Knowing the way this place is run nowadays,” his father said, picking Michael up off the ground and carrying him in his arms. “There probably is a kid lost out there. Julia, get Mike back to the car and we’ll continue searching.”

“He-he, curly dark hair and big big brown eyes and his face is soft. I don’t know his name but he’ll answer to moonbeam--”Michael managed to get out before his mother was shushing him and holding him close to her chest.

“They’ll find your friend.” She rubbed his back as he cried onto her shoulder. When they reached the car he was gently deposited into the back seat and she asked him to sleep. Her kind were eyes roaming over him, searching for any injury she could mend and resting on his hands that were darkened by the dirt he was restlessly clinging to “Oh honey, what were you doing?” She pulled out a handkerchief and wiped at his hands. Her hands were shaking heavily as she worked on cleaning the dirt from his palms and fingers.

“Don’t be afraid, mommy. They’ll find him.” Just as she said it someone called her name and she looked up. His father appeared at the car window, he looked just as shaky as Michael’s mom. 

“Julia, the kids aunt recognized the nickname and said that his dad took him away earlier today. Smart man,” his father said, rolling his eyes. Michael felt relief and anguish wash through him. Why would Moonbeam leave him without even saying goodbye? Was he scared away by Michael’s kiss? Or maybe he was taken away against his own will. Maybe he needed to be saved. Michael had to think quickly.

“We should go then, get Mike in a warm bed and then head back to New York tomorrow.”

“Wait, I need to give this,” he dug into his pocket and pulled out Moonbeam’s pocket watch. “Back to Moonbeam.” His mother picked up the pocket watch and examined it for a moment before handing it out to his father.

“No! I need to give it to him. Me!” He scrambled to get the watch back.

“Don’t worry, Jr. I’ll give it to his aunt and she’ll make sure that he gets it back, okay?” His cunning plan was ruined and the bitter taste of familiar insecurity was pasting up his tongue as he watched the pocket watch get passed to his father.

He’s dad has always told him to stop and take a look at everything before taking any steps. It was very possible that Moonbeam just had to leave without time to say goodbye. He was letting his thoughts carry too far as usual. This logical thinking didn’t cause the ache inside him fade. His stomach squirmed and his eyes stung, for though there was probably nothing dangerous about Moonbeam’s departure there was still the departure part of it all. He ached to have at least seen Moonbeam one more time before they were separated.

His father returned and passed back the pocket watch to him. To answer his confused glance as the gold chain and watch were dropped into his hands his father said, “His aunt wants you to hold onto it until next year,” his father gives him a tight smile before turning in his seat. A stream of warm hope rushed threw him as he gripped onto the chain in his hand.

Yeah, they would see each other again next year.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **To those who haven't read the first draft** : Thank you for reading! I really hope you enjoy it so far and I think publishing the first chapter will push me to write more because I have the time I'm just a procrastinator. Don't read any more of this post because spoilers.  
>  **To those who have read the first draft** :  
>  **Commentary** (for those who are curious as to why I added or took away certain elements.)  
>  I added the pocket watch scene because I thought it was a little odd that Blaine chose to give Kurt a pocket watch before they break up. I felt like there should have been more meaning behind it and so I added some back story. There aren't there many modifications to the beginning chapters except for the fact that I mushed them all together (which will be a common thing with all the chapters) I decided that it was also important to add some more to the scene with Michael at the very end to support Michael's silence and anxiousness in later chapters. I think it was important that Blaine and Mike had more of an affect on each other on a deeply emotional level. There will be more Michael POV parts as well as Sam.


	2. Dust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mike and Blaine meet for the first time?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that the second chapter is being posted pretty quickly after the first one but that doesn't mean that all my updates will be that quick. Chapter 2 was already mostly finished before I posted chapter 1. Though I hope that posting these two chapters will force me to work on this fic and post the other chapters quickly. We got this peeps, we got this.  
> Commentary accompanying this chapter for those that have already read the first draft will be at the end of this chapter.
> 
> This chapter has not been edited yet. Let me know if you catch any mistakes and/or are confused by randomly incomplete thoughts or sentences.

**The book was found under a plethora of old elementary school crafts** ,so its texture was grainy with glitter and he had to pull some pipe cleaners out of the crumbled edges. The book was old when he was first held it, but now it seemed ancient, pulling and dredging up old memories as he pulled it out from under poorly drawn families of four and hand-turkeys.  Blaine held up the book to the front of his face, puffed up his cheeks, and blew. Particles of dust and glitter flew dramatically around with an assist from his hand wiping off the remaining dust. Dust caught uncomfortably in his throat causing him to cough and set the book down on a nearby stack of boxes as he cleared his throat. After a few moments of catching his breath, Blaine opened the book. Its spine creaked delicately under his light touch and more dust unsettled as he carefully turned the page to a certain story. Rapunzel was weak on her page, but her eyes were still penetrating even in their faded black ink and dog-eared paper.

When he was younger he used to fawn over the book and all its stories, but the secrets were kept next to Rapunzel, safely tucked into her pages, a map and a dried flower with misshapen petals and a bent stem. The creases of the folded map were weak with overuse from the times he was younger and spent nights folding and unfolding the map, hoping that it would tell himself different to him, explain something to him. For the longest time he was positive that his old imaginary friend was real, and was determined to prove it to himself. The map was his most crucial bit of evidence. The map had a very different handwriting than the handwriting on some of Blaine’s old school projects; it was neat shorthand while Blaine was always so diligent with his cursive back then. But it could have very well been just a map that he found on the ground or something. Everything was so clear in his memory as well. Every moment he shared with this fictional boy went through his head like a reel of vintage footage. He guessed it was his dramatic nature that put the moments in sepia tone or maybe it was his dramatic nature that invented the boy in the first place. It was all just a nine year olds hyperactive imagination during an important time in his life. He was now convinced that it was all just his sexual identity crisis budding in the form of an imaginary prince charming. It was cheesy but he was nine, and then tended to happen with nine-year-olds.  As for the missing pocket watch? He probably just lost it in the trees or something.

Still, a little voice that liked to burst up into his thoughts, breaking through the layers of carefully set thoughts and logic told him that he shouldn’t give up so easily on Sunshine. It broke through some nights where he couldn’t help but stare at his ceiling and think what a grown-up Sunshine would be like. He would undoubtedly be handsome, charming, maybe a little quiet but not necessarily shy. He would have smooth fingers to touch and smooth lips to kiss…The trouble with these smile-forming thoughts was the danger of snapping out of them and realizing how carried away he would get with the crazy situations he would build up of him meeting up with Sunshine again.

His stomach churned with the familiar empty hunger to feel the way he felt back then, but he couldn’t let go of the foolish idea that something about his imaginary friend was real, even all warmth and belonging he felt back then. He was probably romanticizing the whole thing anyway. He tended to do that.

He blamed his natural teenage desperation to find a boyfriend. It was the same thing that made him believe that he was in love with a certain Gap employee who ultimately rejected him. That love lasted as long as a week at the most after being rejected. Though he was determined not to make the same mistake again the next time a cute boy so much as smiled at him, part of him longed for some kind of physical, romantic connection with someone. It was about that time in his life right? He was in High School now. Wasn’t having a boyfriend in high school some kind of rite of passage. His friends at Dalton seemed to think so and Cooper certainly did when he was in high school. His mom, always questioning Blaine about his love interests, seemed to think so too. His dad preferred not to talk about Blaine’s “preference” altogether.

Another twinge of heavy emptiness stirred inside of him as he ran a finger over Rapunzel’s soft pages. The book also reminded him of his aunt. Though he hardly knew her he still loved her like a second mother. Though she died a few months after he left her at the camp, she still played a pivotal role in his life. She was the one who helped him realize that he didn’t need to hide who he was just to please his family. He owed so much to her and her gracefulness. The pain of losing her so soon after still stung him, though not as badly as it had when he first learned that she had died of a brain tumor.

With a sigh, Blaine placed the book on the top of the boxes, but left it open with the map tucked into the middle of the pages so it wouldn’t fall away. He made a mental note to take it to his bedroom later so it didn’t get stowed away into dusty storage again. Blaine was staring around the attic, his mind still distracted by his previous thoughts, when his phone vibrated in his pocket. After a few bemused blinks, Blaine pulled his phone out and saw that he had a new text from his friend, Kurt.

 **-Hey, Blaine Warbler! I’m on my way with Finn, Puck, Sam and Mik-** Blaine flinched at the “Warbler” but only had a brief time to glare at Kurt’s text before he was sending another one. **–Whoops! I mean Mike not Mik.-**

He had heard Kurt talk about Finn and Sam, but didn’t recognize the other two **. –Who are Puck and Mike?-** He knew that Finn and Sam were on the football team and, though Blaine liked football and all that, he didn’t generally like the people that played the sport. They did tend to make Blaine’s life hell when he went to public school. The memory of the brutal night when three pairs of fists drilled into his gut came to him so quickly that he blinked a little in surprise. As did the memories of Sunshine were colored in warm browns and oranges with filmy textures, these memories also had their own attributes. They were rough and jumpy and bright red, every detail was sharp and pointy and the colors glared from heightened exposure. His stomach churned again, but this time with displeasure. He knew that Finn and Sam were cool, but what about the other two?

 **-They are mainly Finn’s friends-** Blaine’s worst fears realized **-But they’re in Glee club as well.-** He did feel a little guilty about the relief Kurt’s second text gave him, he knew it wasn’t smart to judge people by their extracurricular activities. To his surprise Kurt sent a third text. **–Puck is hot but majorly hetero…I think. Mike is a good dancer, but he can’t sing. D:-**

**-Everyone can’t have a god-given singing voice like yours, Kurt.-**

**-;D-**

 

 **“Welcome to the Anderson Residence** **,”** Blaine said with an over-dramatic bow as he opened the door for Kurt and the other four boys.

Kurt put his hands together happily as he stared around the entrance hall, his eyes flicking to the antique umbrella stand to the original hand threaded Indian rug on the floor. Kurt went on about the wonderful decorating scheme, using words that Blaine really didn’t understand. Blaine looked around at the other four, all of them standing awkwardly in the threshold while waiting for something to happen. Blaine recognized all of them vaguely but only really knew Finn because Kurt lived with him. He knew who Sam was, someone Kurt “casually” mentioned a lot, but didn’t know what he looked like. But since Kurt had mentioned that Sam probably dyed his hair blonde, it was clear which one was Sam as the other two had dark hair.

“Hi,” Blaine said after Kurt walked a little farther down the hall, ooh-ing and ah-ing about Blaine’s mother’s choice in decoration. “I’m Blaine.” It was then he realized that all of them were way too tall, and one of them was wearing a Letterman jacket. The one that Blaine assumed was Sam stepped forward to shake Blaine’s hand.

“Hey,” his smile was very wide and bright. “I’m Sam.” Aha, Blaine was right. He had big lips and a look of awe on his face as he looked around the entrance hall. The expression on his face made Blaine feel a little naked in his family’s flamboyant wealth.

The one that was wearing the Letterman jacket gripped Blaine’s hand tightly as if he was trying to threaten Blaine with his grip. Message received, don’t mess with Jacket Guy. “Puck.” Puck was definitely intimidating with his steely stare and bristly mohawk. But when he smiled, Blaine didn’t feel as intimidated. He could see kindness under that hard exterior. 

The last boy grabbed Blaine’s attention the instant Blaine spared him a glance. He had placed a hand on Sam’s shoulder, who was still looking around the house like it was Willy Wonka’s Chocolate factory, and gave Sam something like an hinting smile. Taking the hint Sam shut his mouth and a slightly embarrassed blush appeared on his cheeks. Blaine knew that this would be Mike, the dancer, that Kurt had mentioned, but Blaine didn’t want to be creepy so he stuck out his hand again and said, “And you are?”

“I’m Mike.” He said quietly, a shy smile spreading across his mouth as he shook Blaine’s hand. He had a soft but sturdy grip, his fingers were long and there was something graceful about Mike’s entire person that caused Blaine to feel a little flustered under Mike’s hesitant stare. Why did Kurt have to mention that this guy was a dancer, they were Blaine’s weakness really. He gave Mike another subtle once-over as they stepped away from each other. He was easily the most attractive out of the four of them with his lightly styled black hair and blue jacket and long legs in tight gray pants. Kurt may have preferred the bulkier joke-type guys like Finn, Blaine had a very different opinion about what attractive was. Those deep brown-red eyes that flicked over him one more time before looking away didn’t help either.

“Oh, sorry, guys,” Kurt said, making his way back to them. “I was going on about your furniture and I didn’t even think to introduce.” Kurt doesn’t look too upset about missing the opportunity; his eyes are still glancing around at everything from the lighting to the color of the walls.

“Thank god we live in the centaury where we don’t need someone to properly introduce us,” Blaine said, his awkward attempt at a joke that got a smile from Mike and Kurt but dumbfounded expressions from the rest of them.

“So,” Kurt said after a beat of awkwardness. “You needed strong men, I brought you strong men. They’ll do whatever you want them to do.” Kurt said with a happy smile on his face as he clapped his hands together for a second time. Blaine felt his mouth open in slight shock at Kurt’s words. He hated his own mind for being so easily pushed into the gutter and he let out a nervous laugh before pressing his lips into a sincere smile, amused by himself and Kurt’s naivety.

“Yes, I need some help moving stuff from the attic to this hallway and then to the basement.” Blaine said, still suppressing a grin as he noticed the other boys exchanging knowing looks. It seemed he wasn’t the only one with his mind in the gutter. To his relief none of them looked disgusted, just amused. “I wouldn’t ask for help, but it’s like,” he threw his hands up and gestured wildly. “Complicated furniture stuff.”

“Smooth, Blaine.”

“I’m sure he’s smoother when you too are alone,” Puck said, nudging Finn, who just shook his head, clearly not comfortable with the topic. Blaine was also not keen to the suggestion and his eyes widened as Kurt blushed. He felt the panic of pressure build up as they all stood in silence in for a few agonizing moments. True, Kurt did confess that he had feelings for Blaine not long ago but the idea that others thought there was something between them made Blaine feel guilty and uncomfortable and pressured to pursue Kurt, even though he just thought of Kurt as a friend.

“Shut up, Puck,” both Finn and Sam say as Sam hits Puck on the arm.

“Why don’t you lead the way, man,” Finn said, gesturing to Blaine as a desperate attempt to get out of the situation of innuendo. Blaine nodded and lead them toward the attic. When they reached it the top of the steps.

“We are putting all the furniture in the hallway and all the boxes downstairs. I really only need help with the furniture,” he said as the others bumped past him and spread out in the room. Much to his surprise, Puck and Finn started looking inside some of the boxes, like it was some kind of yard sale—a secret attic yard sale, dustiest items are half off! “Anyway, I can probably take the boxes down all by myself.”

“Nonsense,” said Kurt, “We’ll totally help you with all of it,” he then sat down on the dusty couch before quickly standing up again as dust puffed up in clouds around him. He let out an exaggerated cough and said. “Well, I’m glad I wore one of my older outfits here.” He cautiously sat back down on the couch. Blaine didn’t know how he was going to help by sitting down but didn’t say anything.

“Okay, let’s get to work guys,” Puck ran a hand threw his pocket as he flicked a few box lids open, still sniffing around for something like treasure.  “I don’t want to miss Berry’s party. It’s going to be hilarious to see what she thinks a party…” Puck lost track of his own words as a look of pure excitement appeared on his face as he reached into the box he opened. He pulled out a pair of old combat boots from Cooper’s short time at a military camp. “Dude, can I buy these.”

“You can have them. They certainly won’t be missed,” Blaine said with a chuckle. His eyes were then drawn to the open book that Sam was picking up. “But that will,” Blaine said hurriedly, taking it away from Sam and shutting it. “I’ll take care of this later.” Blaine smiled apologetically at Sam before putting the book on an empty built in shelf in the corner.

“It’s dark in here,” he heard Finn mutter. “Hey, Mike get that window open.” Blaine turned just as Mike was pulling the canvas window curtain down. It snapped back up and dust flew into every direction as the sunlight invaded the room. Blaine watched with slight awe as particles of dust flew around the boy, sparkling around him as it settled on his shoulders and dark hair. He shook his head and the dust flew off him. He then reached forward and moved his hands through the particles. A small private, satisfied smile, showed on his face as the dust danced around his fingers. Blaine found himself smiling as well at his actions, he almost felt childlike in that moment. Perhaps it was because he discovered an important part of his childhood less than an hour ago, or maybe it was the smell that reminded him of exploring this same attic when he was younger. Part of him told him it was because Mike’s smile reminded him of his imaginary friend’s smile, like Blaine’s creation was coming to life in that moment. Blaine watched until Mike looked up and caught his eye, a trace of that smile still remaining on his lips. Blaine looked away quickly and forced himself to listen to the conversation that the others were having.

“You didn’t invite me because I’m a Warbler now? Seriously? What is wrong with you two.” Kurt was standing now with his arms folded in a intimidating stance.

“It wasn’t my idea! It was Rachel.”

Kurt folded his arms and set his face. Blaine wasn’t a stranger to that glare and it was clear that Finn wasn’t either, as he visibly winced and drew back. “You know that it takes a lot more than just restarting the computer every time you’re done using it to clear your browsing history,” Kurt said, keeping his arms folded and sitting back down on the dusty couch with pseudo-concern. “It would really be a shame if someone that knew how to look that kind of thing up told our parents about it.”

“Alright, you can go.”

“Great! We’ll be there.”

“ _We’ll_ be there?” Blaine asked, pulling himself out of his unconscious watching of Puck and Mike attempting to see if Cooper’s old boots would fit Puck’s feet. (More like Puck using Mike as a support system as he lifted his foot up to compare to the base of the boot, Mike didn’t look like he was a willing participant. Blaine liked to think that his micro-expression was annoyed but amused.)

“Yes, Blaine. You and I are going to this party as the Warbler traitors we are.” Kurt sent a glare Finn’s way before looking up at Blaine. He opened his mouth to protest, realized that he didn’t have any plans that night anyway, and ended up shrugging in consent. Puck made a sound that resembled the cracking of a whip, causing Blaine to feel uncomfortable again.

“Dude, cut it out,” Sam said before smiling apologetically at Blaine.

Blaine was excited about the prospect of hanging around Kurt’s friends. He enjoyed listening to Kurt when he spoke about his New Directions days and the friends he made through the club. From the stories that Kurt had told they all seemed interesting and wonderfully different from each other. Blaine’s eyes found the Mike kid again and he wondered why Kurt never mentioned him. It struck Blaine that he had seen Mike before as he watched Mike’s brows furrow as he turned an old clock in his hands. He was dancing with a girl named Brittany at sectionals during Santana’s solo. He recalls that Kurt’s commentary was mainly focused on Santana’s performance more so than the two dancers.

He shrugged again and followed Finn down the stairs, carrying a few fragile things that were to be placed on the shelves in the basement, where they would be forgotten once more and covered in fresh dust with the company of damp basement air and even poorer lighting.  

 

 **Kurt did end up helping until the last thing left was the couch and a stack of boxes he chose to rest on after helping them carry down a large wardrobe.** By this time Blaine felt icky with sweat and his arms felt weak, he was about to join Kurt on the couch when the couch itself started to lift up. Kurt let out a yelp as Finn and Puck lifted the couch from either side and Sam lifted from the back.

“Oh my god,” Kurt clutched desperately on to the couch and he pulled his feet up, his eyes wide like a cat startled out of sleep. “Don’t you dare drop me!”

“Who else wants a ride?” Puck said nonchalantly, Blaine could see his arms shaking so he wasn’t convinced that lifting an old couch with Kurt on top was supposedly easy enough that he could handle two more people.

“I’d rather not,” Blaine threw his hands up and backed up, hoping that his expression would tell them how much he did not like the idea of sliding falling down a staircase with a couch and three other boys.

“Mike?” Mike responded with a vigorous shake of his head but his amused smile stayed. Blaine and Mike stayed back and watched as the other three laughed and joked about dropping Kurt while Kurt pretended to be unaffected.

As soon as he was sure the two of them were alone Blaine spoke directly to Mike, something he had been planning since he first set eyes on Mike. “So, Mike is short for Michael right? Which do you prefer?” Mike paused, it seemed like he had planned on following the other four down the stairs and Blaine had trapped him in an awkward conversation, it really was Blaine’s curse to make other’s feel awkward. But Mike smiled and turned toward Blaine.

“My parents call me Michael, my friends call me Mike. But honestly, you can call me either, I’m not picky,” Blaine liked his voice, it was smooth and steady but some kind of tone was under it all giving it an almost good-humored and kind of goofy tone. His voice felt like a magnet, drawing Blaine in even more fascinating him and dazzling him with more curiosity. Blaine was momentarily surprised that he had never been told about Mike, he seemed like the kind of person that would stick out.

“Well, Michael,” Mike’s lips twitched at that, “Kurt hasn’t told me much about you except that you are a good dancer?” Blaine winced, regretting his words as soon as he saw Michael blink with what he assumed was surprise.

“Well, that’s all most people know about me.”

Blaine couldn’t tell if Michael was hurt or, again, amused by the fact that Kurt knew so little about him, or didn’t care enough about him to talk about him.  He opened his mouth to respond when a loud shout calling his name echoed up the stairs. Blaine sent Mike an apologetic smile, to which Mike responded with a shrug and a that small smile again.

“I’ll just-”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll bring the rest of the boxes down.”

“Are you su-”

“Go on, you’re needed.”

Blaine felt the familiar beginnings and hyper elevation of a silly crush occurring inside him as Mike’s smile cracked into a grin, but it was mixed with something else, that feeling of nostalgia that Mike seemed to carry with him. It stuck to Blaine like magic, invisible dust that buried into his skin and warmed him inside and out. He was roughly pulled out of the floating feeling he was having when he heard the conversation they were having downstairs.

“Remember what she did to Sunshine, Kurt?”

“Oh don’t be so worried, Sam. Blaine’s not stupid enough to go to a crack house.”

Blaine’s stomach lurched and he quickly stepped forward to hear the rest of the conversation, but everyone had stopped talking and were all looking at him expectantly. “Sunshine?” He said, his voice practically squeaking. He could feel the color melting out his face as he tried not to look or sound so anxious.

“Yeah,” Kurt said tentatively, raising an eyebrow in surprise. “She’s this girl Rachel sent to a crack house earlier this year. Are you okay?”

“Dude, you look like you have seen a ghost.”

“Dude, are there ghosts in your attic?”

Blaine shook his head, trying to get himself back into the right mindset. Sunshine wasn’t even his real name, _he_ wasn’t even real. Too much remembering for one day. Besides, the only people that even knew about Sunshine were his aunt, his dad, and his therapist. He was too old for an imaginary friend at nine-years-old if he started making excuses for a real Sunshine again at sixteen he would be in serious trouble.

He flashed what he hoped was a convincing careless smile. “Oh, I just thought you were talking about someone I know. What did you guys need?”

“Alright,” Kurt replied, still looking suspicious. “Finn wants you to make sure that Rachel knows that you’re coming to the party to party and not spy on her.”

Blaine swallowed hard, feeling the urge to shake his head and run to his room to lock himself away with only his thoughts. He didn’t want to go to the party now. He felt as if someone had held a map to a precious treasure and put it over a burning candle, the ink melting as the paper turns black and crispy. He must have been going insane if he would rather spend time thinking about an imaginary friend instead of going to a party. “Sure thing,” he said as enthusiastically as he could.

Kurt clapped his hands together, clearly satisfied. “Perfect, I have the best outfit for this.”

Blaine was once again interrupted before he could reply by a loud clamoring that sounded behind them. Everyone’s gaze quickly shot around to see Mike throwing his jacket on and stumbling toward them.

“Mike? You okay, man?” Sam walked forward to meet him.

Much to Blaine’s surprise, Mike looked straight at him. His dark eyes connected with Blaine, warm and searching like he was trying to dig through Blaine’s deepest thoughts. The moment only lasted a mere few seconds but it shook Blaine to his core.

 “I have to go,” He said quietly as he moved past the others and headed toward the door.

“Wait for me,” Sam said hurriedly as the door shut behind Mike. Sam pulled on his jacket and muttered, “Sorry about this,” before he left the house.

“What the hell?” Finn said when the door was shut behind Sam.

“Dude, I have never seen Mike act like that,” Puck walked to the door and peered out the window next to it. “I hope he’s okay.” He said, which seemed to be more to himself than the others.

“I’ll text him and see what’s up,” Finn said, pulling out his phone.

 Blaine walked over to the other window and peered out. Michael and Sam were sitting in a car with Mike in the driver’s seat. He was clutching to the steering wheel and shaking his head while staring off onto the road in front of them. Sam was sitting in the passenger seat a look of worry on his face as he spoke to Mike. Mike was keeping his lips tightly shut.

“Blaine, aren’t there a few more boxes up there?” Kurt said in a small voice as he tugged on the sleeve of Blaine’s shirt. He turned around and forced another smile, though his heart was pounding with adrenaline and he wanted so badly to know what Mike’s actions were all about. There was life in that small moment and he wasn’t going to soon forget it, not to mention the fact that Blaine has always been painfully curious.

“I’ll go get them,” he said, still forcing a smile that hurt his cheeks. He walked toward the stairs as fast as he could without actually running. His real motive was to get a view of Mike and Sam without the others around, but when he reached the window that Mike had opened he found that they were already gone and turning the corner at the end of the block. He frowned, ready to just finish cleaning up and forget about it when something else caught his attention. His eyes had instinctual flicked to the book left in the corner of the book shelf, like they had the entire time they were moving. No longer was it standing up against the side of the top shelf, where he swore he put it. Instead it was lying flat on the second shelf to the top. Blaine shook his head, he was really cracking up. Still, something didn’t seem right about the books placement. He picked it up and flipped open to Rapunzel’s story. Again, his stomach dropped like an anvil inside him. A nauseating displeasure shot through him when he saw that the construction paper map was gone. Blaine quickly looked on the top shelf and then all the shelves below. Maybe it dropped out when he took the book from Sam? He searched the ground eagerly but there was no trace of the map anywhere. Blaine groaned, thinking that it probably dropped into one of the boxes, or thrown away and disregarded as a piece of trash. He knew it shouldn’t be that big of a deal, but today just seemed to be a heavy buildup of strange nostalgia and emotion. The thought of losing that piece of his childhood made him close to tears. He remembered when he used to take that book and all of its contents with him to bed and he would trace the lines of the neatly drawn pathways to a field of fairy dust. He remembered the rough texture of the paper that soon turned smooth under his constant folding, unfolding, and touching. He would just have to search through all the boxes until he found it…or didn’t find it. He supposed that he could search the trash as well?

He placed the book on top of the rest of the boxes and picked them up. When he started down the stairs an all too familiar voice called him. He rolled his eyes and tried to ignore the uncomfortable dread and annoyance.

“Are these your friends?” His father was standing with Kurt, Puck, and Finn. The expression on his face was bordering on annoyance, an expression they seemed to share.

“Yes, they were helping me clean out the attic,” Blaine said, holding the boxes up as evidence. Discomfort seemed to ripple through the air, as everyone shifted uncomfortably around.  After a few more moments of this awkwardness Blaine spoke again, “You already know Kurt. Finn is his brother and Puck is a friend of theirs.” He gestured toward each of them with his chin, the boxes getting heavier in his grip the longer they stood there.

“May I take this opportunity, Mr. Anderson, to say what a lovely home you have,” Kurt said with his usually charming smile as he stuck out his hand. His dad forced a smile and shook Kurt’s hand for a fraction of a second before letting go. Blaine knew his dad well enough to know that he wasn’t even trying to look comfortable around them. He had seen his dad fake a convincing smile before and charm the best of them with ease. Kurt seemed to read this poor attempt to hide disgust and his smile slipped a little. A tundra of guilt rushed through Blaine’s stomach and he flashed an apologetic smile before his dad turned to face him.

“Is that the last of it?” Mr. Anderson asked, not bothering to accept Kurt’s compliment on his home.

“Yes,” Blaine said quickly. “I’m just going to put it away right now.”

“Right,” his father said in response. “If you need me I’ll be in my office.” He grumbled as he made his way past him.

Eager to avoid the awkward looks of the others, Blaine started as soon as his dad started moving away. “I’ll just take these down stairs now, what time is the party?”

“In another hour or so,” Finn replied, seemingly remembering the fact that he had inadvertently invited two warbler’s to Rachel Berry’s party. Internet history was so powerful.

“Why don’t you come and hang out with us until then?” Kurt said with a smile that was welcoming and genuine. Blaine liked that side of him—the non-predatory, kind-hearted side. It was as if Kurt could understand exactly how anxious Blaine was to be out of his house. He really could have hugged Kurt right there if he wasn’t already holding a stack of increasingly heavy boxes.

“Yeah,” Blaine breathed out, relieved. “Let me put these away and I’ll grab a change of clothes, too.”

“We’ll be out in the car.”

Blaine hurried into the basement and put the boxes down near the end of the stairs, he wasn’t going to waste time trying to organize it when he had plans. He couldn’t help but think how strange it was that one moment he wanted to stay locked up in his room with a book of fairy-tails and the next he wanted to get as far away from his home as possible. He picked up the aforementioned book and headed back up the stairs. When he made it to his room he spared a few moments to run his hands over its cover and the bumpy texture of the ink on paper. Part of him wanted to take the book with him, like it would bringing it along would bring his old imaginary friend too. He resisted the momentary urge and placed the book carefully on his bed. He allowed himself a moment of delusional belief to warm him before turning away and starting down the hall.

When he passed his father’s office, he kept his footsteps light as a habit. It was a normal habit as he was used to getting reprimanded for bothering his father while he was working in that room ever since he was young. He could hear his father talking in a low tone, which made him curious. As low as his father’s voice was he could still catch the conversation.

“I know that he is a grown boy and this is what he has chosen, but I just wish he would be normal. I wish he would at least give it a try, maybe date a nice girl. I can’t understand it Ellis, I just can’t.”

Blaine blinked as though someone had flicked water in his face and stood back. Of course he was use to his father’s passive-aggressive approach to his sexuality. The hints to talk to and constant introduction to the religious councilor, the car building, even the child lock on the internet. There was so much more than that but hearing it so blatantly again after years and years of subtle disdain felt like a slap in the face. He could only find himself grateful that his father hadn’t intended him to hear it all. However, this sliver off gratitude was buried in anger, annoyance, and—more than anything—guilt. Guilt for not being exactly what his father wanted and guilt for feeling guilty about who he was. He bit down hard on his lip and continued down the hall. He thought that maybe he could date a girl, but he knew that he could never feel anything for her. He blocked out the thoughts of being that unhappy just for his father’s sake as he stepped farther from his house and slipped into his friend’s car. He needed to have fun and a party without people judging him or expecting things from him would surely cure his ache.

Maybe Mike would be there, too.

 

 **Mike was still reeling from his discovery** when he next saw Blaine at Rachel’s party. He cautiously watched Blaine as the party got into full swing, looking for a trace of that boy he met when he was younger. There were those same deep hazel eyes but a distinct lack of curls as his hair was slicked with hair gel. He dressed fine, almost classy in a cardigan. Mike remembered that Blaine had been wearing a bow tie when they first met before Blaine had changed into his “outdoor” clothes. It was hard not to remember the small details of the short time they spent together. Still, Blaine was not what Mike had expected. Blaine was outgoing, sociable, and charming like he had expected, but also a little self-interested it seemed. He was like a calmer male version of Rachel Berry. They even looked like each other, Mike thought, as they sang together on the stage in her basement.

Though Mike was so drunk that he started calling one of the orange throw pillows his best friend and his dancing with Tina became spastic at best, he still kept an unconsciously sober eye on Blaine. And the more he drank the more he felt like he needed to go over to Blaine and talk to him. He wanted to pull him into a secluded corner and just talk about the years they had been apart. Mike wanted to know everything he could about Blaine. He wanted to see the bright, childish excitement in Blaine’s eyes again. When Blaine’s hair was once again loose from his drunken adrenaline he drew Michael’s attention even more. Adding to his adorably curly hair, Blaine’s whole drunken inhibition brought out something like the young hyperactive and curious Moonbeam he once knew.

Late into the party, when most of the people were asleep and Mike was staring to drift off a little with his arms clutched around an orange pillow and a large bottle of water, he found himself approached by the very person his mind was occupied with. Blaine stumbled toward him and plopped down on the couch.

“So, Michael Mike,” his brows were furrowed. “Michael okay?”

Mike leaned his head on his pillow and took a long swig from his bottle of water. “I already said its cool, man.” He slurred in response.

“Oh right I remember now,” Blaine ran a hand through his hair as he grinned at Mike. “I remember you now, Michael.” Mike felt his eyes widen as his stomach lurched with excitement, how could Blaine possibly remember? Maybe…possibly…Mike meant as much to his Moonbeam as his Moonbeam meant to him? That had to be it! Though years of doubt and fear that Moonbeam had intentionally abandoned him made him feel a twinge of doubt. But Blaine’s grin told him that it was possible. His hopes deflated with every syllable of Blaine’s next sentence. “You danced at sectionals, dancer guy. You danced with the Brittany. So good, Michael.” Blaine’s head was starting to droop, but Mike was too busy reprimanding himself for his high hopes—the disappointment in himself assisted by the boost of alcohol still in his system—to even notice that Blaine had rested his head on his shoulder. He only noticed the curly, frizzy hair scratching his neck and chin when Kurt came in and woke him out of his sluggish thoughtfulness.

“Sorry, Mike,” Kurt said before starting forward to wake Blaine up. “I’ve never seen him drunk before so you’ll have to forgive my inattentiveness.” Kurt pulled at a sleepy Blaine until the latter started awake and stuck a hand out that managed to weakly smack the side of Michael’s face. Blaine gurgled an apology as Kurt helped him up off the couch.

“Time to go, Blaine.” Kurt said, looking annoyed but fond. Kurt had to struggle to get Blaine into his coat as Blaine tried to sleep against a wall and then the banister of the staircase.

As they were stumbling up the staircase he heard Blaine call out loudly, “Just because Kurt’s gay and I’m gay, doesn’t mean we’re gay together.” This was followed by a loud thump and a muffled groan of pain.

“You’re walking yourself the rest of the way, Blaine,” Kurt said, his tone miffed, the hint of fondness completely gone. It was then then that Mike decided he was listening too much and he let himself doze off, his new best friend—an orange pillow—resting underneath his head.

 

 **Blaine had a favorite season**. Undoubtedly, he wasn’t the only one that loved summer. There were already so many songs about  it, but he wasn’t going to let its extreme popularity with others affect his opinion. (He wasn’t a season hipster, after all.) The thing that Blaine liked most about the summer was the heat of the sun on the bottom of his bare feet. He enjoyed the way it crept in between his toes while the grass on his front lawn tickled his heals. He would lie next to one of the trees and sometimes watch the leaves above him flutter in a small summer breeze, they seemed to shimmer as they flickered from shaded to sunlit faces. It caused a warm stir in the depths of Blaine’s stomach as he watched the sight, it was like the environment was making visual music for him. Sometimes the neighborhood would be so quiet and he could hear his neighbor’s wind chimes clink together. Those moments were magical.

On the days when the neighborhood was bustling with lawnmowers, barking dogs, he would take a book or listen to his music. One particularly hot, breezeless summer’s day he was sitting with his large fairy tale book resting on his knees as his feet were buried in long grass. He was eating an apple as his eyes skimmed over story after story, his attention not fully invested in each word. His thoughts were drifting off with, crawling over the still leaves above him, trying to reach somewhere metaphysical and above the trees reaches.

He had been feeling this pull of wistfulness for some time now, ever since he found the book his aunt gave him. The deeper part of him couldn’t let it go. He let these thoughts stir only in his moments of languor and solitude, for then they could just be fanciful daydreams instead of serious reflections. He had promised to himself that he would eventually let the idea of Sunshine go—for himself, but more for his boyfriend—even if it required a step by step process. He even managed to say goodbye to his imaginary friend through song, and, to him, music was the best way to express oneself. But even with the song he still dreamed about going somewhere only he and Sunshine knew, possibly a field of white flowers surrounded by tall forests of trees with the rest of the human race miles away. His step-by-step plan wasn’t really working, but his conscious thought was convinced that it was. The whole thing was a very complicated situation.

Because his eyes were going over one paragraph over and over again as he was trying not to focus on his meandering thoughts and on the text in front of him, Blaine didn’t realize that he had company until Kurt was waving a hand in front of his face. Blaine shook his head a little before focusing on Kurt.

“There you are,” Kurt said, his smooth lips forming into the usual fond smile that he always gave Blaine. Blaine was surprised to see Kurt as they did not make plans earlier, and this certainly wasn’t a date day. Date day was Friday and—Blaine had to stop and think—yes, this day was definitely a Wednesday.

“Hey,” Blaine said quickly, sitting up. “What are you doing here?” He took Kurt’s offered hand and pulled himself up. He brushed off his pants before looking up to smile at his boyfriend. “What brings you on this fine summer’s day?” He leaned in for a kiss only to find Kurt moving away from it. He furrowed his eyebrows. “What’s up?”

“Nothing,” Kurt’s smile was clearly forced as he said it and Blaine felt something like dread approach him. Blaine nearly commented on the newly thick atmosphere of awkward but something about the look Kurt was giving him caused him to close his mouth. Whatever was coming, he was going to let it happen. He knew Kurt too well to not notice the look of determination on his face.

“Oh-kay,” Blaine said, slowly retrieving the smile he lost in the previous interaction. “Come inside then,” he nodded his head toward the front of the house. “It’s lucky that you decided to stop by, because I just got something I’ve wanted to give you for a while now.” Ignoring, for as long as he could, the nagging sensation of dread still creeping inside him, Blaine took his boyfriend’s hand and pulled him toward his house. He could feel the drag in Kurt’s following steps in the loose grip of his hand, he imagined that each step seeped into the ground and spread like an infection—a virus—on the tiled floor of his hallway until it reached his bare feet and crawled up him until the bitter taste of ending reached his frowning mouth. When he set the fairytale book down on a table in the hallway he felt the sensation get heavier.

He avoided looking at Kurt as he led the way to his bedroom.

Blaine wasn’t known for being observant to his surroundings, in fact he was painfully oblivious most of the time, but he knew when an ending was coming. He knew that he and his father would never have the rapport he had when he was seven and “still straight,” he knew that there was ending to that the moment he uttered another boy’s name in that pining way that “little girls used when talking about a boy in their class” when he was nine. He knew the ending of his relationship with his lovely aunt when he got to the phone first and was asked by his grandmother—in her tightened, forcefully cheerful voice—kindly asked him to hand the phone to his mother. He knew the ending of his time in public high school the instant he entered a poorly decorated gymnasium with his friend’s hand resting assuredly on his back. Save one instance, he always knew when endings were coming.

This was an ending.

He would face it bravery and brevity—that is, if Kurt’s reasons didn’t anger him—but first he wanted to give Kurt something that he knew he owed him for the months of something that almost felt like normalcy and completion.  He opened his desk drawer and pulled out a long, slim case. He forced his best smile and turned toward Kurt, who was pretending to be distracted by one of his posters.

“I uh,” he opened the case to reveal a silver pocket watch. “I got you this,” he pulled the watch out by the tip of its chain, letting it sway and spin as he held it up to be presented.

He wasn’t really that surprised by Kurt’s wary look as he observed his gift, “isn’t that more of a father to son gift than a boyfriend’s gift?” His tone was skeptical but Blaine could hear a hint of bewildered amusement underneath it and that gave him some hope that they wouldn’t have a complete ending.

“I thought you might like it,” Blaine lied. Truth be told when he bought it he was only thinking of the aforementioned ending that he never expected. Buying the watch and commissioning the engraving of an ornate flower with curvy pedals on the back of the watch was an act of forceful ending on Blaine’s behalf, a true goodbye to his past delusions and his day dreams. Needless to say it didn’t really work. He was hoping giving it to Kurt would help him move on or maybe help him give Kurt all the attention that a boyfriend required.

“No, I like it,” Kurt replied, timidly running a thumb over the engraving before dropping the watch so it dangled again from Blaine’s grip on the chain. “I just can’t accept it.”

“No, you can,” Blaine said, holding out the watch.

“Blaine you don’t understand-”

“I do though,” his voice went quiet and he averted his eyes. “You’re about to break up with me.”

There was a long enough silence for Blaine to look up to calculate a reaction. Kurt was offering a small smile, his dimples indented a little. “I’ve always been pretty transparent.” His face went serious and set in a frown. “I’m sorry.”

“I-Why?”

Kurt inhaled, his eyes watering a little as he did so, before speaking with a sort of carefulness. “You told me that you loved me, and I said that I loved you too but it wasn’t true. I loved the idea of being loved and with the idea of being in a relationship for the first time. You were the first gay person that I had ever met so I figured,” Kurt raised his shoulders in a timid shrug. “I figured that it was supposed to be us together. So I let myself believe that you were right for me and that I was right for you. I was just so relieved to find someone like me that I didn’t even consider our actual compatibility. You did once drunkenly say that just because we’re both gay doesn’t mean that we have to be together. ”

Blaine felt like rolling his eyes but he didn’t. He was thinking about Kurt’s constant perusal of him, the way Kurt so obviously got jealous and possessive of him as if he expected Blaine to suddenly realize that they were soul mates. But Blaine knew what it was like to be in Kurt’s position. He knew the feeling of meeting someone that he was allowed to be attracted to without the threat of instant, I’m-not-gay, rejection. He was known to exaggerate his feelings for anyone he went on two dates with—Jeremiah is still the freshest in his mind.

What a sham.

 Blaine held his hand up to stop Kurt from continuing. He slipped the pocket watch into his pocket. It was warm and the thin layer of fabric between the watch and his skin didn’t do it’s office of truly separating the warmth smooth texture from the chilled tense skin of his rigid stance. He felt momentarily relieved from that comforting warmth. But he was quickly annoyed when he looked up to see Kurt’s quizzical, pleading look.

“Kurt,” he replied, his tone quiet though a little shaky. “I don’t know what you want me to say to all of that?

“That we’ll still be friends?” Kurt said hopefully.

Blaine was shaking his head before he knew what he was going to say and Kurt’s expression fell. “You expect me to forget and forgive right away?”

“No, I just want you to understand.”

“Well, I do. That doesn’t make me any less—any less annoyed.” Blaine said, his tone exasperated. “You—just—augh. You knew I just wanted to be friends.”

Kurt’s face colored and his eyes sparked with anger and Blaine knew then that he was stepping into dangerous territory. “Excuse me, but you were the one that started this relationship by kissing me. _You_ were the first one to say that you loved me.”

Blaine bit down on his lip. He felt guilty. Perhaps he wasn’t the only one being in used and mislead. Perhaps they both wanted so badly to start one of those fancy teenage relationships all the other people their age were getting into. All of it was a waste. He was being pulled back into the delusional, wistful, day dreams of his imaginary friends. He was angry at himself. The images of their relationship flashed by no longer in the warm brown tones he associated with happy memories but with shaky reality and dull colors of a poorly shot YouTube video with one voice that muffled all other sounds with its static background buzz. He twitched his lip back in thought before quietly nodding in compliance. “You’re right, we’re both to blame here.”

“Blaine, I’m all for dramatics as you know but I don’t want this,” Kurt gestured at the gap between the two of them, it seemed like the farthest they have ever stood from each other even though Blaine knew he could reach out and touch Kurt’s shoulder, “to be dramatic.”

“Me neither,” there was the brevity he was hoping for.

“Good.”

“But, I think we should take a break from each other. I need to deal with this in my own way.” Kurt nodded, understanding. It was a rare situation, Kurt taking something at face value instead of beating around it just waiting to be angry and offended.

Blaine almost felt he hadn’t seen Kurt’s nod in agreement until Kurt smiled and said, “That’s fine, Blaine. Whatever you want.”

Kurt left shortly after that with a pleased smile on his face unaware that a strip of Blaine’s pseudo-self-control was stuck to the bottom of his well-polished designer shoe. It was slowly unraveling. The careful fabric that he had spent so many years wrapping himself in was being tugged off with each happily light step Kurt took.

The next thing he knew he was picking up his heavy, tattered, fairytale book again. He didn’t read it. Instead he clutched it to his chest were it felt like a warm, comforting hug.  

The next week was almost reminiscent of his mood after leaving his that camp so many years ago. He spent most his time in his room, the fairytale book inches from his grasp at all times. His emotions, however, were muted compared to what he remembered feeling before. It was like his whole world had buckled and nothing made sense or seemed real, everything around him seemed to shake with electric life. Now they only seemed to be in the background, muffled by his weak determination. Perhaps he was just remembering his past emotions wrong. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time he romanticized something.

 

 **He woke with his arms around his book and his cellphone buzzing next to his head** **.** He jerked up and grabbed his phone, his vision blurry as he looked at the screen. The name that popped up on his screen was unfamiliar and he certainly never remembered programing a “Same Kevins” into phone. Odd. Maybe it was a group of twins all named Kevin. But it was certainly unlike him to get the number of a group of twins all named Kevin unless he was drunk and feeling sexy. He was so distracted by this ultimately intriguing but disturbing thoughts that he almost missed the call. He quickly picked up and cleared his throat before saying a still groggy, “Blaine Anderson speaking.”

“Hey Blaine, it’s Sam.”

“Sam?” Sam, not Kevin?

“Evans, Sam Evans. Er…Kurt’s friend. I helped you move stuff from your attic?”

“Oh right, hi Sam?” The obvious typo in his phone made it clear that he had programmed it when he was drunk. “Did Kurt tell you to call me?”

“No-” Blaine heard someone muttering in the background of Sam’s side of the phone call. “—Yes, Kurt wanted me to check up on you.”

Blaine’s lips twitched skeptically, the person in the background had a familiar voice but it definitely wasn’t Kurt’s. There was a piece missing in this situation and he was going to find it out.

“I’m fine. Why—”

“Dude, you’re not fine. You should hear yourself right now. I got dumped too and you sound just like I did when I got dumped. I know what it’s like, man. So does M—ouch. I just know man.”

Blaine let out a long exaggerated sigh and lied back down on his bed, causing the fairy tale book to slide next to him. “So does who?”

There was some muffled arguing and Blaine was about to ask again when Sam blurted out, “Mike.” Blaine hated that he perked up a bit at the name. “Tina totally just broke up with him too, yesterday in fact. So do you like bowling?”

“Sam, if you’re asking me out—”

“No! No! Not at all. Mike— _and_ I thought it would be a good idea to hang out with you. All three of us together. Bowling and stuff. We get a discount because Puck is working there for the summer.”

This was all very overwhelming for Blaine, but his heart gave a little thump at the idea of spending time with the mysterious Mike Chang. He was an interesting subject for Blaine ever since they first met in the hallway of his house and Mike gave him that tiny, almost invisible smile. When he hung out with Tina and found out that the two were dating he was even so bold as to ask about him. That was how he learned that she was the same Tina that he had met when they were children and that Tina and Mike had hooked up at that same camp when they were counselors together the year after it re-opened.  (He refused to let himself ask her about Sunshine because sensible adults didn’t try to bring up imaginary friends with other sensible adults. Also the conversation was about Michael, not Sunshine.)

It wasn’t easy to talk to Mike, it always seemed like he was avoiding Blaine somehow in the few times they met and perhaps some time with him and Sam without the distractions of teenage love interests.

“Hello? Blaine? Did I lose you?” Blaine jumped back into awareness.

“Sorry, yes I’m here. Dazed off. Uhm. How is Mike? Feeling okay?”

“He’s fine. It was more of a mutual break up than anything for him.”

“Ah, I see, lucky for him. Tina’s a cool girl and can see her being cool about that.”

“Mike’s a cool dude.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Blaine said with a laugh. “I hardly know him.” He hardly knew Sam for that matter.

“Well get to know him—ouch—sorry, ignore that. We’ll all get to know each other through the art of bowling. So you in?”

Blaine couldn’t help but smile as he tried to ignore his pounding heart, excitement teaming from his fingers as he tried to keep his phone steady against his ear. “Sure.”

 

 **When Sam hung up the phone he finally removed one hand from Mike’s mouth and the other from Mike’s forehead.** Mike looks grumpy and annoyed but Sam could see the small corner of Mike’s mouth twitching up.

“Dude, you’re so weird.” Sam chuckles and lets his phone drop from his neck before punching Mike in the shoulder. “Why is this such a big deal to you?”

“Sam, you-just-you don’t . . .” Mike said, shaking his head and letting a real smile show—a real smile from Mike was always a gift, “He’s kind of the entire reason I…”he paused, leaving Sam in momentary suspense. “…did you ever have a moment in your childhood when you just knew that your life was going to change forever?”

“Yeah, man. When my class mates made fun of me when we had to read in front of the class. That’s when my teacher told my parents that she thought I was dyslexic.” Sam said with a sincere nod and a prideful smile.

“Well, Blaine is kind of like that for me.”

“He’s your dyslexia?”

“Well, not to romanticize dyslexia or anything, yeah he kind of is.”

“Whoa-ho-ho, I never said anything about being romantic.” Sam smiled to the side, though it felt like his lips were slipping uncharacteristically on his face, control merely by his own determination to smile at Mike. It bothered Sam, like an itch on a part of his back that he just couldn’t reach. The itch turned into a burn in his chest and a fuzzy clump in his throat so he swallowed and kept his teasing smile.

“Sam, really,” Mike said, looking exasperated though the color heightened in his cheeks as he glared at Sam. “I don’t-I don’t . . . know. Let’s just go bowling then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Commentary:** Here is where things are really going to start changing. First of all, Kurt and Blaine's break up is more amicable while Blaine's curiosity about Mike is more heightened. There is also more Mike POV. I changed the break up because I thought I was forcing too much of my own opinion into the first draft and though it's for the same reasons and everything I didn't like Blaine's reaction as much. It felt a little too meta, if you know what I mean. I feel like I went in for a little more detail and made Kurt a better person than he was in the first draft, same with Blaine's father. I hope you guys enjoyed!


	3. Distractions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They're both distracted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the wait and sorry it's so much shorter than the last two chapters! I might start writing in short chapters so they don't take so long. A lot of this typing was rushed so expect a lot of terrible mistakes until I go through this chapter to edit it. Let me know about any mistakes you guys see! Sorry, it's so rushed. I feel so bad for taking so long.  
> 

**Blaine felt really uncomfortable**. He was in a car with two people that he didn’t really know all that well. One of them looked just as stiff as he felt while the other grinned back at him from the passenger front seat. Sam was smiling uncontrollably at Blaine and then he would sometimes look over at Mike before trying to spark up a conversation that would inevitably die as they drove toward the bowling alley.

“Sorry,” Blaine said as another conversation died. “This is kind of weird for me.”

“Hey man, don’t think of us as Kurt’s friends, think of us as your new friends,” Sam replied, looking back at Blaine with his genuine smile unwavering.

“This was really nice of you Sam,” Blaine said, his eyes flicking to the driver of the car to see if there was any reaction from him.

“Oh, don’t thank me, thank—”before Sam could finish his sentence Mike slammed on the brakes, causing all of them to jerk forward in surprise.

“Sorry, I thought I saw something in the road.”

Sam pointedly rolled his eyes as he turned back around in his seat. Mike’s shoulders were visually tense as they drove on. If Blaine knew him better and if he didn’t completely socially shut down in awkwardness around him, he would have placed his hands on Michael’s shoulders and rubbed until the tension was gone. With someone else he would have done it anyway but Michael made him feel so buzzingly nervous, jittery and full of cotton.

Blaine blinked, realizing that he was drifting off into thought and that the conversation they were having early had been abruptly ended because of Mike’s sudden halt. He couldn’t have that.

“Thank who?” Blaine asked. He didn’t realize that Michael could be even tenser.

“Thank my—thank my love for bowling. Mercedes and I loved going together.” Blaine smiled sympathetically and patted Sam on the back—mentally rolling his eyes at himself for being comfortable with touching Sam but not Mike.

There was still a thickness in the air, amplified by Sam’s pointed stares at Michael, who seemed to be ignoring him. There was something they weren’t telling Blaine and it made his curiosity flare up with intense heat around his mind. He knew that Sam didn’t have the money to waste, Kurt was always so concerned about him, so why would he be the mastermind behind the outing? It’s not that bowling was particularly expensive, but it wasn’t very wise to spend money on pointless activities when money didn’t come easy.  Not to mention that it seemed like Sam was doing it purely for Blaine’s entertainment and they hardly knew each other. Blaine was momentarily worried that maybe Kurt had just deigned to give Sam money to take Blaine out, but even Kurt wasn’t that insensitive.

It really wasn’t one of his best ideas to decide to hang around with two of Kurt’s friends. The break up, though amicable for two dramatic-inclined boys, was still raw in him. He was regretting all of his decisions leading up to this point. Even his decision not to spout off the ready excuse he had to cancel their plans last second—it was pretty good, he was going to pretend that his mother really needed his help in her garden.

The silence was back again. It was uncomfortable, thick, loud silence. The breaks in Mike’s car squeaked as he stopped at a red light and Blaine took the opportunity to take in the surroundings at a desperate swat of distracting himself, watching a couple holding hands and walking down the street. The couple held his attention for a short second before he felt the heat of someone staring at him. His awareness of his company kicked into over-drive as a small blush rose on his cheeks. He could feel deep brown eyes slowly taking in his form, scanning it possibly for more information. Embarrassment crawled up his neck meeting the heat of his cheeks.  Part of him wanted to remain in his position so his voyeur could get as good as a look as he could as they idled at the stoplight, but the heat and his own curiosity were too strong together and he turned his head to look at the guilty party.

Their eyes met in the review mirror. As they met it felt like Mike could possibly read his mind just through a fleeting connection. It didn’t make Blaine uncomfortable or intimidated only more curious. He couldn’t read Mike’s expression, it was so minuscule. Mike flashed him an innocent smile, looked away, and started to drive.

“Mike!” Sam yelped as a car honked and Mike slammed down on the breaks, jerking them all forward. “The light is still red!” Mike let out a string of apologies and a few swearwords, red building up on his face as he waved apologetically at their fellow commuters. Blaine let out a loud laugh before quieting himself with his hand, he felt slightly guilty.

The light did eventually turn green and a few moments later Sam, who was still laughing at Mike, suddenly pointed at a gas station. “You need to get gas, Mike.”

“What? No. The tank is like half full.”

“Get gas, and I’ll get Doritos.”

“They have vending machines at the bowling alley, Sam.”

“Not Cool Ranch. Get gas or I’ll tell your parents that you almost got in a huge accident.”

Mike rolled his eyes but smiled as he turned on his signal and turned in the gas station lot. “Sorry, Blaine, bowling is being postponed until Sam gets his Doritos.”

“Cool ranch, man” Sam said as he got out of the car and half-jogged into the gas station.

And then the two of them were alone in a tiny car, the air conditioning blowing the scent of the Sam’s Chap Stick sitting on the dashboard into the air. “So,” Blaine started, “do you go bowling often. Did you go with Tina a lot?”

“Tina?” Mike let out a short laugh. “It’s not really her thing. Not really my thing either, to be honest.”

“It’s more of a Sam thing, huh?” Blaine said, leaning forward in hopes that Mike would actual make eye contact as they talked.

“So this was all Sam’s idea?”

“Uh, yeah. He’s a sucker for bowling. He asked me to come along because he didn’t want you to think that it was a—”

“Date?”

Mike nodded and finally looked over at Blaine, his expression unreadable again.

Blaine smiled good-naturedly, “I try my best not to accept dates with straight guys, Michael.” Something about that sentence affected Mike in some way, the corners of his mouth tucked up in the tiniest pleased expression. Michael opened his mouth as if he was about to say something but then closed it quickly and looked away.

They stayed in strained silence again until Mike muttered, “What’s taking him so long?” and pulled out his phone. Blaine peered over the seat and watched as Mike’s fingers moved swiftly over his phone, even his fingers and hands were graceful.

“Wow, you’re fast—at that—you’re fast at texting,” Blaine mentally hit himself on the forehead. Michael raised an eyebrow and looked over at Blaine with an amused smile on his face.

“I text a lot.”

“Probably because you don’t talk that much, huh?”

Mike’s reaction helped Blaine realize what he said was probably rude. He mentally hit himself on the forehead again as Mike bowed his head down and blushed again.

“I mean—I didn’t mean—sorry,” Blaine said weakly.

Mike muttered, the color in his cheek growing even darker and spreading a pink tinge down his neck.

Swallowing back the awkwardness and defeat of the moment, Blaine sat back in his seat, read to just bathe in the uncomfortable silence. Blaine didn’t mind silence most of the time, but there was something incredibly unsettling about this particular silence.

“Can I show you?”

Blain jumps. “Huh?”

“Uh…can I show you?” Mike looked around, his neck stiff as if his body was telling him not to turn and look at Blaine. “How impressively fast I am at texting?” He grinned a little. Intrigued, Blaine leaned forward, his smile mirroring Mike’s.

“Absolutely.”  
Michael tilted his head toward the passenger seat, still smiling at Blaine. Blaine, taking the hint, climbed over the middle console and sat comfortably next to Mike. A pleased warmth spread through him, perhaps the release of the awkward tension was cathartic enough to make this moment more pleasing than it would have been otherwise.

“But I’m going to need your phone number for this next trick.” Mike said in a quiet tone though his grin was loud.

Blaine let out an uncontrolled laugh, “that sounds like a really cheesy magician’s pick-up line.” He didn’t look for Mike’s reaction as he pulled out his phone and rattled out his phone number. A new message pinged his phone in a miraculously short time. The even more surprising thing was how lengthy the text was.

**-Mission Log: Operative C has located the subject and is now transporting him to the “Bowling Alley” where Operative’s C and E will instigate trusting emotions from said subject before initiating plan “drug and abandon in desert”-**

Blaine let out an uncontrollable laugh before he started to text back, with less grace and quickness. **–Mission Log: Agent A has been apprehended by the subjects and will initiate plan “poison their drinks” before their mission is complete. They don’t suspect a thing.-**

They exchanged a few more humorous texts, which ended in their respective pseudo-agents realizing that they were sending their mission logs to the wrong people, before they realized that Sam was taking an awfully long time in the gas station.

“What is taking him so long?” Mike sat up in his seat and peered at the gas station. “I can’t even see him.”

“We could call him? Or just go in and see what’s taking him so long,” Blaine was still recuperating from spending just those few moments laughing with Mike. He felt a pleased swooping rumble in his stomach as Mike sent him a small smile and pulled his phone up to call Sam.

“Hey, what’s up?” Mike pulled the long sleeve of his shirt up to check his watch so the strength in his forearms distracted Blaine again. God, it was like the guy was made of smooth skin and toned muscles, even his fingers were strong. “Well you been inside for almost ten minutes, man.” Blaine stopped himself from following the veins in Mike’s arm in time to catch a good natured eye roll from the latter. Mike put a hand over his phone and whispered. “He broke the soda machine.” Blaine let out a snort of laughter and tried to get a better look into the gas station. There were too many rows of candy and ships to see the soda machines. “Okay, okay, just a sec,” Mike mouthed an apology before slipping, with annoying gracefulness, out of the car.

Blaine expected him to head toward the gas station and was about to get out of the car to help was well when instead Mike leaned against the door of the car and continued to talk to Sam in an incomprehensive mutter. At first Blaine was trying to listen in but then he got distracted again. Mike was wearing a red checkered vest over a crisp white button up shirt. The sleeve that Mike rolled up earlier was starting to slip down, Mike unconsciously pulled it up again as he talked. The same arm soon reached up and scratched at dark, soft hair, which caused his vest to pull up just enough to show the suspenders clamped onto the back of his dark, tight, jeans. Blaine swallowed and forced himself to look ahead and not at Mike.

It was weird and annoying.

Of course Mike was attractive and of course Blaine was attracted to him and it sucked. It was really frustrating because felt like he didn’t have any choice in the matter, it was almost from the instant he set his eyes on Michael that the attraction accompanied with powerful curiosity. His curiosity even took over his nostalgic wistfulness and irritation that seemed to be set deep within him since he blew the dust away from his old fairy tale book. Another infuriating thing about the entire situation, was that it was based purely off Mike’s mystery and attractiveness. Blaine felt like a cheesy protagonist in a terrible romance.

Michael’s quiet nature pulled Blaine out of his environment of people who always spoke their thoughts; his parents argued for a living and with each other for free; his brother’s favorite activity was talking about himself; Kurt was a constant stream of wit and criticism; Blaine himself couldn’t go very long without blurting out something possibly offensive and/or blunt; it was almost refreshing to have the calm of Mike’s company.

But the aforementioned mystery about Mike could probably be solved within a few meetings and the attraction would dim into something like friendship. Discovering who Mike was might end the attraction with a sharp sizzle, a harsh fall of water on a blazing fire. The mystery behind Mike’s reserved behavior might be because he didn’t have much more than dullness to contribute to conversation, or that he didn’t like Blaine for some reason? Until Blaine figured it out, he could settle himself happily by taking in Michael’s striking appearance.

He couldn’t tell when he had started to look at Mike again but he found that his eyes were focusing on the other sleeve which had remained rolled down until Mike started to pull up the cuff to his elbow so it mimicked his other sleeve. Blaine always liked when men had the appearance of being a little scrawny but were really toned, and the muscle apparent just in Mike’s forearms and the tightness of his shirt and vest on his broad shoulders told Blaine enough about what the rest of his body might look like.

Taking advantage of his new found resolution, Blaine watched Mike’s strong, beautiful fingers shift gears as he pulled out of the gas station and back onto the road. He could barely pay attention as Sam momentarily berated him for taking his spot and only lifted himself out of his steady observation of the way Mike’s fingers gripped the gear shift when Sam tapped him on the shoulder and started asking him questions.

Sam was friendly and nearly as curious about Blaine as Blaine was about Michael, though definitely more vocal about it—something about Mike’s calm and reserved personality quieted Blaine’s usually barrage of uncomfortable questions. Sam asked mainly about his childhood, which was a little suspicious but Blaine couldn’t pin point his endgame as he asked about Blaine’s extra-curricular activities s as a child. It was odd, but perhaps Sam was just an odd person.

 

“Did you ever have a moment in your childhood when you just knew things would never be the same?”

“It depends. I remember being pretty dramatic as a kid so when my mom didn’t cut the crust off my PB and J it was pretty much the end of the world. But now I think about it I guess the day I told my dad I had a crush on a boy for the first time.”

“Oh? Who was the boy?”

“I can’t remember his name. I only remember that he hit me when I gave him a flower.”

 

“What kind of stories did you like to read when you were a child?”

“My aunt gave me the complete works of the Grimm brothers when I was nine. I used to read them late into the night. Now when I read them again I realize I was pretty naïve as a nine year old.”

“Kind of like how I used to really like watching _Who Framed Roger Rabbit?_ when I was younger and now when I watch it I realize just how dirty it is.”

“Exactly like that, except a different kind of dirty.”

 

“Who was your best friend growing up?”

“I never really had a best friend, it was more like I had a lot of acquaintances instead. Third wheel kind of thing.”

“Any childhood friends?”

Blaine paused, trying to think of a way out of the question before light heartedly saying, “Oh yeah, lots of childhood friends.”

“Who was your best childhood friend?”

“It really depended on the day. They were all imaginary, you see,” Blaine said with a laugh that was cut short by Mike slamming on the breaks of the car and the loud honk of a horn. Mike nearly hit the car in front of them. He muttered an apology to everyone and the conversation was forgotten.

 

By the time they entered the bowling alley Sam—and Mike, who didn’t speak at all during the conversation—knew almost everything about Blaine’s childhood. He only hoped that he would be paid for his contribution in learning something about them sometime.

Puck looked comical in his uniform, his Mohawk covered by a colorful baseball cap and his bulky arms covered by a tacky orange and yellow stripped shirt. He had a very conscious expression on his face when he saw the three of them entered the building.

“Hey,” Sam exclaimed with surprise, giving Puck one of those awkward bro hugs that ended in a weird fist bump. Honestly, Blaine didn’t understand his own species sometimes.

“Hey Sam, Mike,” Puck ran his hands nervously over his pants before greeting Mike with an equally awkward hug. When he pulled away his eyes fell on Blaine. “Blaine?”

Blaine waved awkwardly in response. “Hey, Puck.” He felt so out of place.

“We’re taking Blaine out to commiserate with us because he just broke up with Kurt. Bowling is super distracting and fun,” Sam nodded like it was the most brilliant plan he could think of.

Puck’s curious expression darkened as he looked back at Blaine. “You broke up with Kurt.”

Seeing where Puck was going with his death stare, Blaine stuttered an explanation out of fear for his life. “Uh…actually he broke up with me. It was pretty amicable.”

Puck still looked skeptical and cracked his knuckles like a rebel boy caricature.

“Dude, it’s true.” Sam patted Puck on the back. “Puck the Avenger doesn’t need to put on his superhero costume.”

Mike let out a quiet laugh which caused Puck to fully acknowledge his presence with a quizzical glare. “What’s up with you, Mike?”

Michael looked momentarily dubious before he broke into a confused smile and said, “What do you mean?” Blaine saw his cheeks go slightly red which was a sure sign that Mike probably wasn’t acting like his usual self. Maybe he was so introverted that it took him a while to warm up to people.

Puck made a face at Sam who only shrugged in response. The entire situation was lost on Blaine. “Whatever, man. You guys need shoes?” Puck said, gesturing for them to follow him to counter which he then jumped over like he was in a parkour YouTube video.

“Puckerman, for the last time, walk _around_ the counter,” a growly voice yelled from a room behind the counter.

“Eyes like a fucking hawk.” Puck muttered, “Don’t comment on the outfit or you guys are going to end up in the hospital and I’m going to get fired.”

“What happened to the pool cleaning business?”

“Still thriving, dude. I just need the extra money for when all the outdoor pools are shut down for winter. It’s a system,” Puck nods proudly.

 

**Puck continued to act aloof around Blaine as they started their game, even though all of them assured him that Blaine did not break Kurt’s heart and that Blaine was not trying to stage a coup against the New Directions.**

“I’m sorry,” Mike said as he sat down on the chair across from him as they waited for Sam to finish his turn, “Puck has very weird loyalty issues.”

Blaine shrugged it aside and bent down to adjust his shoes—Puck gave him a half-size too big. “I get it. The warblers get the same way. They were worried that I was going to go with Kurt when he transferred back to McKinley.”

“How come you didn’t?” Mike asked, his brows furrowed.

“Well I thought about it, but even then I realize that it wouldn’t last. Also I’m pretty loyal myself,” he didn’t mention that the thought of going back to public school made him physically sick. There was a long pause in which Mike watched Blaine as if he was trying to think of what he had to stay.

“Loyal to the losers?” Mike said eventually, a teasing smile on his face that sent Blaine’s heart into strong palpitations. He managed a smile back.

“I’m sorry but didn’t New Directions completely botch Nationals?” Blaine said, more than ready for some easy banter.

“At least we actually made it to Nationals.” Mike scoffed, his eyes lighting up as he leaned closer.

“Yeah, yeah rub it in like a real mature adult, we’ll get your next year.”

Mike looked like he was about to respond but was interrupted by Sam passing through their eye contact and plopping next to Mike.

“You’re turn bro,” He gave Mike a loud clap on the back. Mike jumped as if he was surprised but then stood up quickly.

“This isn’t over,” Mike pointed at his eyes and then at Blaine in a threating gesture, Blaine looked in mock fear before laughing, color rising in his cheeks. He was upset that their banter ended and wished that they could just sit together and get to know each other possibly over dinner…with candles. Blaine gritted his teeth and sighed. Yeah, it definitely wasn’t over.

 

**They spent a lot of time together after that, though they all had jobs and other activities there was always at least three times a week the three of them found something to do together.** Sam was absolutely persistent that they all spend time together and was constantly group texting to set up another scheme. Eventually Blaine was pleased to find that Michael was actually warming up to him. He was, unfortunately, upset to find that Michael’s quietness wasn’t because of stupidity or distaste for Blaine, but because Michael always thought before he spoke, a trait that Blaine admired but couldn’t adopt himself. Blaine like to pretend he could see Mike’s thought process every time he was about to speak. Mike’s deep brown eyes would flick around, taking in everything and everyone around him before he chose to speak his thoughts out with brevity and carefulness.

There were times when Blaine wished that Mike would just let all of his thoughts out without thought, times when he would catch Mike staring at him with a sort of earnest expression. Most of the time Mike would just smile when Blaine caught him, which really dazzled him out of thinking too much about it until later. Sometimes Mike wouldn’t realize that Blaine was staring back at him until Blaine said something or waved a hand in front of his face.

“He’s a very thoughtful person, isn’t he?” Blaine asked Sam as Mike went to the kitchen to get snacks as Blaine and Sam watched the opening credits of the movie they picked out. They just managed to kick Sam’s little brother and sister out of the room so they wouldn’t have nightmares about ghosts or zombies or whatever the movie was about, he wasn’t really paying attention when they picked it out.

“Yeah, I guess he is,” Sam nodded as though he just realized it. “He’s not always that way though. I guess Tina was right about him being too distracted.” Blaine looked at him questioningly and Sam explained. “That’s why they broke up.  Tina said he has been too distracted lately. She’s not really needy or anything she just didn’t want to put him through having to date her if he clearly didn’t feel anything for her.”

Blaine frowned. “Whoa. I thought it was amicable.”

“Well, he didn’t want to end it or anything but she realize that she wasn’t really feeling it either so she thought it was for the best. He seems pretty okay with it though, they’re still friends and everything. Maybe they’ll get back together later or something.” Sam didn’t seem too enthusiastic about the idea.

“Well, whatever makes them happy I suppose.”

“Yeah,” Sam ended lamely. There was an awkward silence after that, only broken by Mike entering the room again with a bowl of chips and a plate of cookies that looked just fresh out of the oven.

“Your mom made these,” Mike sat in between Sam and Blaine and set both treats down on the coffee table in front of them.

“My favorite,” Sam smacked his lips and reached for a cookie. He dropped it quickly. “Still too hot. Thanks mom!” He called out as he gently picked the cookie again.

“It’s no problem, sweetheart. I just followed the instructions on the back of the box.” She called back. “Now be quiet a little while, I’m putting your brother and sister to bed.”

Blaine’s thoughts were racing so fast he only started paying attention to his surroundings when the warmth and tension of Mike’s leg pressed up against him as they situated themselves more comfortably on the Changs’ living room couch. A tingling warmth spread from their touching thighs through Blaine’s body until it reached his heart and throat so the speed of his breathing and heart rate increased slightly.

 

**For the rest of that night Blaine couldn’t help thinking about Mike and Tina.** He hoped that both of them would be happy but he couldn’t help thinking about himself as well. He knew he was being an idiot for being so attracted to Tina but as the realization that Mike was actually straight hit him in that conversation. How could he have been such an idiot? He was attracted to a guy that was heterosexual and the thought that that might be a barrier just barely hit him. It was humiliating.

Blaine fell onto his bed with a loud grunt. “I’m so fucked,” he muttered into his pillow.

He tried not to think about Michael but ultimately failed. He thought about going on a bike ride with Mike and Sam and how Mike kept crashing and ended up with a huge scratch on his arm and pleased grin on his face. He thought about Mike confiding to him about how afraid of heights he was when Mike and Sam visited Blaine at six flags and Sam wanted to go on the ferris wheel and the way his face sort of lit up when Blaine said he didn’t trust ferris wheels because he got stuck on one as a kid so he could comfort Mike’s clear insecurity.  He thought about how he felt when he found out that Mike convinced his parents to let Sam and his family move into their house when he found out the truth of the Evans’ living conditions. He thought about Mike offering him the last piece of orange chicken they got from Mike’s work after they all had a long day and decided to veg out together at Mike’s house. He thought about all the times they were left alone and how Mike would answer all of Blaine’s questions or talking to him with a sort of archness and skill that told Blaine he found pleasure in teasing.

Blaine’s heart banged in his chest. It told him to read into lingering touches and stares, pretend that said touches and stares were lingering in the first place. His brain told him to stop, he made mistakes before with straight guys and they never ended well. Though he was sure that Mike would turn him down in the kindest most well thought out way possible, he didn’t think he could handle the humiliation or distance that might come between.

He made another resolution, he would be Mike’s friend and nothing more and he would push all attraction aside. Too bad the universe was out to get him.

**-Hey, Blaine. You awake?-** It was Mike and it was two in the morning and Blaine was still awake trying not to think about Mike. He scrambled to text back.

**-Yes, I am. Did you need something?-**

**-No. Did you?-**

**-Wait, what?-**

**-You just seemed a little off tonight is all.-**

**-You mean last night?-**

**-Semantics. What’s up?-**

**-Nothing too important. Sam told me why you and Tina broke up and I thought it was a little upsetting.-**

It took a while for Mike to respond and Blaine was surprised that all he got in response was, **-Can I call you?-**

**-Yes.-** Yes. Absolutely yes.

His phone was ringing before it could go dark again. His finger shook as he slid it across the screen to answer.

“H-hey, Blaine.” Mike said, sounding nerve-wracked.

Blaine sat up in his bed, determined to sound as calm as he could as he responded, “Hey, Mike, ‘sup?” Blaine cringed.

“So, Sam told you? What exactly did he tell you?”

“Sorry. I shouldn’t have told you that he told me.”

“What did he say?”

“He just said that Tina broke up with you because you were too distracted.”

“That’s all?”

“That’s all…is there more too it?”

 There was a pause before Mike said, “No” in a quiet and relieved tone. “I mean, yes. But, I don’t want to talk about it. I mean, I’m not really upset about it or anything I just think it’s a little too personal right now. You know?”

“Yeah, I get that,” Blaine was just relieved that Mike wasn’t upset with him or Sam. “I’m glad that you and Tina are still friends. It’s important that you’re both happy.”

“Uh…you know, it’s important to me that you’re happy, too.”

Blaine didn’t know where this was going but his heartbeat sped up so that it warmed his chest up and he began rubbing his chest without really thinking about it. “Thank you, Michael.”

“I like that—Okay, so I think it’s important that you and Kurt come to the same arrangement. I’m sorry if that’s kind of intrusive.”

Blaine deflated a bit. “That is pretty intrusive—”

“I’m sorry—”

“—no, no, it’s okay, you’re right.”

“I am?”

“Yes,” Blaine laughed. “But I don’t plan on getting back together with him, you know.”

“I don’t want that,” pause, “I just want you to be able to restore that relationship. You guys were pretty good friends before right?”

“Yeah, but I have you and Sam now, right?” He tried not to sound so unsure when he said but he was sure he came out quite pathetic. “I also have all my Warbler friends.” Though Blaine had to admit to himself that he did miss Kurt’s snark and wit. Sam was kind and doofy and Mike was witty but not so much snarky and he hasn’t spoken to any of his Warbler friends since the beginning of summer break.

“Of course you have us,” Mike said slowly. “But you don’t seem like the type of person that wants to have loose ends.

“Kurt and I broke up on good terms though.”

“Yeah, but you haven’t even talked to him or about him for a month.”

“I’ve been distracted. Besides, it’s really none of your business.”

“It isn’t. I’m sorry. I just want you to be happy. Tina told me that Kurt misses you.”

Blaine had no idea where this was all coming from. He tried to be happy that Mike wanted him to be happy but he didn’t know how to react. “I miss him, too. In a friend way. I’m not interested in him anymore.”

“That’s great!”

“Great?” Blaine couldn’t help but sound hopeful.

“Yeah, it’s good that he won’t be able to have any kind of hold on you.”

“Yeah,” he sighed and slumped back on his bed, feeling suddenly tired.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have pried.”

“No, it’s fine.” Blaine looked up at his ceiling. “My ceiling is textured so I can see random shapes in all the clumps and patterns. When I was younger I used to pull characters out of the shapes and make up stories for them. I can’t remember any of them now. It’s harder to see any interesting shapes now.”

Michael let out another sigh but there was a smile in his response. “You probably have just as strong of an imagination as you did when you were young, you’re just out of practice.”

The proceeded to talk into the night. Even though Mike had to work early the next day he kept finding things to say and Blaine kept having responses and questions and silly stories for him. Somewhere admist all the talking on Blaine’s end he drifted off to sleep.

He woke up with his phone sticking to his face through sweat and—eugh!—drool and a message from Michael.

**-When you sleep you snore a little. It’s kind of cute.-**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Commentary: I feel like I really changed up a lot in this chapter. First of all I put some of the chapter after it into it, even though my plan was put the entire fic into larger sections and less chapters that doesn't seem to be working out for me. I decided to forgo the whole Mike being unresponsive to Blaine until Blaine asked him why. I plan on adding more to the development of their relationship in the upcoming chapters and may even add a few more scenes into this one.


	4. Not a Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mike and Blaine don't go on a date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has not been edited yet. Let me know if you catch any mistakes and/or are confused by randomly incomplete thoughts or sentences. The next chapter might just be a short section that I've been planning for a while but doesn't really fit with an entire chapter. Anyway, sorry about the lengthy wait on this chapter being finished. I can't make any promises about chapter 5 because I never follow through and I'm the worst person in the world because of it.

**Blaine groaned and turned over until he was nearly off his bed.** He pushed his head into his blankets, the heat of his embarrassment warming around his grin. He managed to raise his head up enough to look back at his phone so he could reply. Just as he was thinking of something really clever to say his phone vibrated with a new message. It was then he realized that he had fallen partially asleep while trying to think of something that would really surprise and impress Michael.

He blinked away his tiredness as his phone blurred into vision. He cringed at the time before reading another message from Mike.

**-Are you awake?-**

Now that was something he could find an easy reply to.

**-Just barely-**

**-Whoa so late!-**

**-Very funny, this is all your fault!-**

**-It is not! I’ll have you know that I had to get up earlier than you and I stayed up later because I didn’t realize that you fell asleep.-**

**-Hey its not my fault you didn’t realize I was asleep!-**

**-Still Blaine. You owe me! ;)-**

**-Okay okay. What can I do to make it up to you?-**

An anxious feeling poured into Blaine after a few minutes of waiting on the edge of his bed with his hair sticking up spastic on one side. He knew that he was one to jump to conclusions but it did seem like they were flirting. Maybe Mike caught on to that and decided not to text back.

He had an uneasy shower and a bitter mug of coffee before Mike finally texted him back. By then he was so nerve-wracked and jittery caffeinated he almost dropped his phone when it vibrated. He didn’t want to read it. The fears that had cumulated during his wait were powerful in affecting his mouth as it went a nervous dry.

**-Sorry my boss was nearby and we got pretty busy. Lunch rush. You can make it up to me by coming to my house tonight. We can hang out and maybe watch a movie! You should come by my work and we’ll eat there after I’m off.-**

The dryness of Blaine’s mouth continued. Instead of confirming Blaine’s fears that Mike was disgusted by the idea of flirting with Blaine threw Blaine for a reeling inference that maybe he was asking Blaine out on a date. A date thing. A friend date? Feeling a moment of fanciful sensibility, Blaine almost defined his emotion as agony.  It was too casual to be an intentional date and Mike was a total heterosexual. He dated Tina after all. Unless he dated Tina to cover up that he is gay. Blaine shook his head, disappointed in himself. Mike would never be that cruel. Maybe Mike didn’t know he was gay, or denied that he was gay, when he was dating Tina. Blaine laughed at himself as soon as the thought became a flash of a plausible possibility.

**-Yes I’m free tonight. What time do you get off?-**

**-Around 7 depending on how busy we are. Be here at 645?-**

**-Yeah I can do that see you then!-**

It was a true testament on how late Blaine slept in because he only had five hours to get ready and then drive to Mike’s work. Granted it didn’t take him four hours—two hours max—to do his hair and pick out an outfit but something like twisting hard taffy was occurring in his stomach. The idea of their plans being a date kept popping up vicariously out of the logical part of his mind.

It took three hours to for him to pick out an outfit and another thirty minutes to do his hair. By the time he was running down his steps it was twenty minutes to 6:45 because he had to spend at little under an hour pacing footprints into his bathroom rug.

He made it to the bottom of the stairs only to find his father crossing the hall at the same time. Figuring he owed the man some kind of conversation Blaine said, “I’m going out tonight, I’ll probably be back pretty late. Is that okay?”

His father looked at Blaine skeptically for a moment before taking a long drink of his coffee that he presumably just got from the kitchen. “Where are you going?”

“I’m going to hang out with Mike.”

His father nodded approval and Blaine resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

When Mike and Sam had come over to pick Blaine up one time they happened to meet Blaine’s father. Jonathan had taken an instant liking to Mike because of his well-dressed appearance and—to Blaine’s intense embarrassment—because he was Asian. He even bothered to mentioned that same day at diner that he liked Michael, which at first pleased Blaine almost to a proud-of-himself-child that just came home with a good grade on a homework assignment, until he learned his father’s reasons.

_“Asian boys are smart, kind, and normal.”_

_“He is Chinese, isn’t he Blaine?” His mother asked, her face rising in color. Blaine knew that differentiating the variety Asian ethnicities was important to her as she herself was often thrown into the marginalization of “being Asian” even by her husband._

_“Yeah, but I don’t think he has even been to China before. I think he knows Chinese though.”_

_“I’m glad that you’re making friends with a nice practical person.”_

_Blaine chewed his food slowly before replying. “Yeah me too.”_

Luckily, Blaine bitterness toward his father didn’t change his opinion about Mike.

“Doors locked and alarm on at eleven thirty.” His dad reminded him.

“If I’m not home by then I’ll just sleep in the tree house,” Blaine said with a laugh. His father returned a small, real smile. Blaine felt dazed with a mixture of old fondness and angry nostalgia. He turned to leave before their small father and son moment could be spoiled.

“Remember when we built that tree house, Blaine?”

Blaine turned back, his smile slipping into a grin. “I remember crying for hours because of splinter.”

There was a laugh, so much like Blaine’s, before Jonathan responded. “And then you told your mom that you were dying and that I killed you.”

“Always with the dramatics,” Blaine said in a low and gruff voice, badly imitating his father. They both smiled at each other before the naked awkwardness broke its way back through their cellophane memories.

“I’ll see you later, dad.” That word pinched him the instant his tongue hit the back of his top row of teeth to form the first sound—dah! Dad.

“Yeah later—”a pause and a hope“—Blaine.” Jonathan drank from his mug before going back into his study with his large mug of coffee leaving the brown morning, smoke, and leather scent behind for Blaine to float in and remember planking pieces of wood together to build a home that was now rotting away, unused and repressed, in his back yard.

As he walked out of his house he pulled on a heavy jacket. Clouds were grey tumbling over him and muffled all sound around him. He could smell the dirt and cement as if the rain ready to burst with beautiful release was already around him. His chest responded to the music of the scents around him with warm comfort of nostalgia and anticipation, two opposites, one looking to the past and one waiting for the future, but both so similar.

 

 **Chopstix was busy when Mike saw him standing just inside the doors.** The rain that had flecked Blaine’s grey jacket with dark sporadic dots opened filter and violently pressed with the wind against the doors behind him. There was a swoop, a perfect pirouette inside of Mike.

When Blaine caught his eye and smiled, raising a hand in greeting, Mike returned the smile weakly and held a finger up and went back to take the order of the loud family in front of him. They were exceptionally loud but he was exceptionally distracted by the boy waiting in his peripheral vision. His shift was up in ten minutes, if they could afford to let him off when he was scheduled. He glanced wearily around at the crowded restaurant and restrained a sigh. When he spotted Blaine he felt a reassuring heat warm his chest and he smiled brighter at the family arguing amongst themselves about their dessert. They were his last table if he could manage it. They were really a beautiful family.

“So is it going to be the fried ice cream?” Michael said, his grin remaining.

They all looked at him oddly. This was probably because he had acted very nervous throughout the entire service and now he was calm, smiling, and attentive.

After a lapse of concentration the family went back to “deciding” on whether or not to get the fried ice cream. He hoped that they would get it to go. Mike found Blaine again, he was looking at his reflection in the window near the entrance, carefully trying to fix the hair that had gotten a little wet from the rain.

“Excuse me,” came an obnoxious voice, popping his moment of silence away from the bustling restaurant. “We decided to just take the check.” The matriarch of the family said, her frown twitching a little when she chanced a glance at what was distracting her waiter.

“Great decision,” he said over the complaining children. “Let me just go and get that for you.” He tried on his best smile, feeling a little sorry that he definitely wasn’t the best server they have ever seen. He made his way over to the entrance where he could ring up their order. It was such a big order and he knew that he wasn’t going to get a good tip/any tip from the table. Funnily enough, he didn’t feel all that bad about it because Blaine perked up when he saw Mike walking toward him.

“Sorry,” he said as he got behind the counter to ring them up. “I’m usually clocking out and getting my tips by now.”

Blaine stepped up to the other side of the counter across from Mike. Mike could catch Blaine’s cologne, crisp coffee, wet grey coat scent even with the powerful Americanized-Chinese food smell wafting around them.

“That’s okay,” Blaine replied, “I have a lot of time, I’m going to sleep in a tree house tonight.”

“What?” Mike said, leaning closer to Blaine just to check if he actually heard what he thought he heard. Blaine leaned in to and Mike added mint chocolate to Blaine’s smells, unless it was from the mints he was holding in his hands for his costumers.

“Nothing important. I like your uniform.” Blaine winked at him and pulled away. It left something like paper in Michael’s throat as the heat picked up in the restaurant. His blue and orange stripped shirt didn’t cover the red that was building on his neck.

“Thanks, I gotta run this check and then see if I can clock out,” he was sure he said it all too quickly. It was a cliché moment as he walked away and felt Blaine’s gaze on him.

Just as he was about to his table again one of his co-workers, Erica, stopped him and said, “who’s that?” Everything in her tone was intrigue. She pushed her brown curls back so they fell dramatically over her shoulders.

“Blaine and he is gay,” Mike said pointedly.

“Oh, I see,” Erica replied, a different kind of intrigue teasing her smile. “Well you better start clocking out soon because Veronica as that anxious I’m-going-to-ask-my-opening-waiter-to-work-a-double-shift look in her eyes. If another big family walks in your date is going to get very impatient.” She started to walk away before Mike could deny anything.

It checked a box in his brain though. This could very well be a date. He wanted it to be a date. Now an idea such as that doesn’t exactly go quiet after a few headshakes and blush but he managed to quell his newfound realizations long enough to hand the bill to the smirking matriarch. Her poorly applied lipstick was showing of yellow-tinted teeth as she handed him some cash and told him to keep the change. He thanked her, though he was sure that the tip was just rounded up to the next whole number from the price.

“You have a nice day,” her smile continued as she led her husband and five children away from the table.

“Uh, thanks, you have a nice evening and be careful on those roads tonight,” his words were fake but his cheer was real, thinly stretched over his giddy, weary, momentous realization that he really wanted to go on a date with Blaine.

When he faced Veronica he had no qualms about denying her pleading for him to stay just an hour longer. She always over-reacted about everything. “I have a…thing. Listen, if you really need help with like taking plates out I might be able to help with that but I’m having dinner her with my friend.”

Veronica looked annoyed but conceded.

“We’ll order something really easy, okay?” He said before opening the bill for his last table.

He was beyond surprised to see an extra fifty dollars as a tip, wrapped around a note that said:

**Have fun on your date**

It was wrote out with dramatic loopy handwriting with an even loopier, if that was possible, heart drawn underneath it. The restaurant really was too hot for him. He threw the paper away.

“Just make sure Erica doesn’t serve us, okay?”

“I’m making no promises,” she called after him as he hurried away. He collected his tips so fast that he almost miscalculated and gave the store half of his money.

He pulled off his uniform shirt and his hat and shoved them unceremoniously into his locker before checking his reflection in the tiny mirror above the employee sink. He pulled on the shirt he had brought it that went well with his work pants. His fingers slipped over the buttons so much that he was swearing to himself before he was even halfway finished with them.

When he finally looked as presentable as he possibly could he stepped back out into the restaurant and made a beeline toward Blaine, who was looking undeniably uncomfortable and bored near the entrance. Mike grimaced apologetically when Blaine saw him.

“If you want we can just go somewhere else or maybe get take out and just head to my house for the movie?” Even though he wanted it to be a date he knew it wasn’t. He wasn’t going to pretend like he thought it was a date.

“No, no, that’s okay. I don’t mind that it’s busy.” Blaine shrugged, his smile back and his look of anxious boredom gone, hopefully for good.

 Mike’s mood faced another test when Erica walked up to them and said, “table for two?”

“I specifically told Veronica that—”

“Oh, she wanted me to give you this,” she pushed a piece of paper into his hand and flashed a genuine grin at Blaine, who was standing silently behind Mike. “Table for two?”

“Yes please,” Blaine said before Mike could refuse. Indeed, he was too distracted by the paper that was just shoved into his hands, it was the note from that matriarch that he thrown away not long ago. The note joined the construction paper map inside his wallet. The single glimpse of the map caused another pirouette to spin in his stomach. He moved his wallet back into his pocket and let his finger graze against the frayed paper. The boy that he made that map for was walking behind him; Blaine’s hand was inches away from his own. It rekindled that same feeling that rushed through him when he and Blaine shared a bench in front of a fire pit, their feet nudging each other until they fell asleep. He was conscious of Blaine walking close behind him, like he was a large fire warming one side of him and crackling in his ear while the other side felt cold with neglect. He could reach behind him and touch Blaine’s fingers and maybe the other part of him wouldn’t feel so aware of its chill.

Michael only realized that there was a plot against him and his friend when Erica sat them down at the table that was easiest to see from the kitchen. He could see Veronica watching their table intensely from what she probably thought was a good hiding spot behind an open freezer door. Blaine pulled off his jacket, seemingly oblivious to the conspiracy forming around them.

“Is this even your section tonight, Erica?” Mike asked, his mouth forming a sardonic smile as she served them class of ice water, her shocking blue finger nails dragging away slowly from each glass as she placed them. Erica shrugged, returned the smile, and brought out her pen and pad to take their order.

“You love birds decided what you want tonight?”

Blaine, who was taking a drink of his water, choked and waved his hands about quickly. “No, no no, we’re not birds! We’re not—we’re friends!” Michael’s stomach settled it’s dancing with a trip and heavy tumble.  

Erica’s face, instead of setting into a frown, split into a grin. “Sure, Blaine. What can I get you two?”

“We need a few minutes. Minutes where you stand away in the kitchen. It’s not far away from here so you don’t have to worry about the distance.”

Mike wanted the tension to evaporate, but even after he managed to get Erica away there was still the awkwardness of the two of them being alone together for the first time since they were sitting in his parent’s car and waiting for Sam. He really should have thought this whole thing through. He was tired after four hours of sleep and all he really knew that day was how much he wanted to see Blaine, he longed for it like a wistful drunk singing an ex-lover’s favorite song.

“So, I guess we’re not birds then?” Michael said, feeling incredibly dumb after saying it.

Blaine choked on his water in response which caused his response to be dangerously rough, “what? Not birds?” His cheeks were red but Blaine couldn’t tell if it was because he was flustered or if it was in correlation with Blaine’s very recent coughing fit.

Feeling that it would be better just to explain it to Blaine instead of pretending it never happened, Mike smiled and said, “I mean you said we aren’t birds. I’m relieved, I didn’t want to have to peck my food.”

There it was. The final release of tension after a long moment, like air slowly being let out of a soccer ball.

Blaine’s face relaxed into a pleased expression, his shoulders still jerking a little as he held in a hiccup from his coughing fit. “You know if you drink water with your head tilted up it should help get rid of the hiccups.”

“Does that really work?” Blaine said skeptically as he picked up his drink again.

“It doesn’t if you don’t believe, Blaine.” Mike said with a wide-eyed seriousness that caused Blaine to scoff and take a swig of his drink before tilting his head up and swallowing. Michael got to watch Blaine’s adam’s apple bob under smooth skin and he was faced with another, more embarrassing, realization, a realization that didn’t have anything to do with childhood memories or hand holding. Well, maybe some hand holding.  Hands pinning other hands against various sexy surfaces, like beds or walls.

“Well, I believed you Michael so it better work,” Blaine wiped his mouth with his napkin. There was a single loose curl sticking oddly near Blaine’s ear and Mike couldn’t tell him about it. By know he knew how much Blaine hated his curly hair.

“I like that.”

Blaine frowned, as if Mike’s words threw a sudden memory into him and he was trying to remember it.

“You like what?”

Mike honestly didn’t know what he liked. Was it the curl? Was it Blaine’s ear? Or was it how well his real name fit between Blaine’s lips. “I like that you call me Michael.” Yes, that sounded the least creepy.

Blaine hiccupped again, but his smile muffled the sound of the gray sheets of rain tap dancing behind the restaurant windows.

 

 **Their waitress filled their cups of water at least ten different times while they were eating.** Her toothy smiles toward Mike, who was steadily becoming more and more silent and stand-offish, made the entire situation a little awkward. It didn’t help the tension that Blaine knew he was actually developing a crush on Mike, it only added to the embarrassment. But the moments they weren’t being bothered by the rise of her eyebrows he could see Mike visibly relax and squeeze in a few amusing comments and smiles.

He knew the discomfort probably stemmed from the fact that the waitress thought they were a couple, which would make any heterosexual male uncomfortable even the most open-minded ones. The tenth time their waitress came around to check on their already full glasses of water Michael staunchly asked for the check and Blaine quickly made sure that the check was split to hint to Erica just how much he and Michael weren’t on a date. Michael raised his eyebrows in reaction to Blaine’s statement but didn’t say anything to contradict him.

“Well that was kind of awkward,” Blaine said, his arm pushed against Michael’s as they put their jackets on. He smiled weakly at their waitress, who was standing not far from them.

“Yeah, I’m seriously regretting that I tipped her more than ten percent,” Michael said loud enough so she could hear him. She sent them both a generous wink before they left the establishment.

“So meet me at my place? Sam just discovered that they have all of the Scream movies on Netflix and he is making me watch the first one with him tonight,” Blaine didn’t respond right away, though he was aware of Michael’s plans he couldn’t stop a shot of trepidation go through him as he peeked at the sky from under the restaurant awning they were standing under. He pulled at the collar of his coat as if he was hoping they would protect him from the downpour. He looked over at Mike with a confused grimace and a moment of understanding occurred between them. “Or I could drive you to my place and then drop you off here tonight or tomorrow?” Michael continued with a reassuring smile.

Blaine’s face changed from poorly concealed fear to a smirk of relief. “Yeah, I kind of have an unexplainable fear of driving in the rain. Especially rain like this.” He stuck his hand out from under the awning and let the rain soak his hand and the cuff of his coat. “But I also don’t want my car to get towed.” He ungraciously wiped his hand on Michaels coat causing the latter to let out a scoff mixed with a chuckle.

“Don’t worry, Dracula,” Michael retaliated by tugging at Blaine’s collar. “It takes a few days for them to tow…I think. I promise if you do get towed I’ll do whatever I can to help you illegally steal it back.” Blaine pushed him and he stumbled out into the rain. “Real coats have hoods, Blaine,” He pulled his hood over his already dripping hair.

“A lot of good that’s doing you. Let’s go. Where is your car?”

“This way,” Mike nodded his head toward his car. The rain, though aggressive, gave their silence as they walked to Mike’s car some peace. It was unlike the awkward silence they faced in the restaurant with an all-to-attentive waitress and other family restaurant ambience. The dinner scene was never a comfort zone for Blaine, the sounds of scrapping utensils reminded him too much of silent meals with his parents. Mike seemed more comfortable too. And, well, that was good. “Sorry I’m parked pretty far from the main entrance. We could have gone through the kitchen but…I didn’t want to have to deal with my manager again.”

“No, it’s okay, it’s your car seats that are going to be soaked through, not mine.” Blaine’s laugh was cut short when Mike opened the passenger side door for him. Mike quickly shut the door again, wincing.

“Sorry, uhm,” he opened the door again, “I don’t know—just get in. I guess,” he let out a sigh. “If you want.”

“Yeah, got it,” Blaine slid past Mike and shut the door before Mike could close it for him.

“Sorry, that was a little awkward. It’s not even some kind of weird habit I have, it just happened.”

“You don’t open doors for people?”

“Well, I do sometimes like for people carrying too much stuff or walking behind me or my mom but that’s pretty much it. I think it’s because I’m going off like 3 hours of sleep right now.”

Blaine let out a soft laugh before responding. “Don’t over think it, Michael. I wasn’t offended or anything because you opened the door for me. It was a little odd but that’s it.” Mike smiled over at him before tearing his eyes away to look at the road.  

Blaine took the opportunity to conspicuously observe Mike. Whenever they hung out Sam was always in the passenger seat while Blaine sat in the back and Michael drove. The passenger seat yielded better observation results than the backseat did, making Blaine a little bit jealous of Sam for a quiet moment as his eyes raked over Michael’s arms and down to his slim fingers gripping the steering wheel and occasionally drifting lackadaisically down to change gears.

Michael’s movements were almost always carelessly deft, like every motion from his head to toes was a piece of improvised music.

“Do you play any instruments?” Blaine asked, almost unaware that his thought process was just spoken aloud.

“Nope. Though my mom did want me to take piano lessons when I was younger, I just didn’t have the attention span or stillness for it back then, I don’t think I have it now actually.”

“I should teach you some day,” Blaine pushed himself back into his seat as he let out a heavy yawn, but he caught the small pleased smile on Mike’s face though his eyes were still trained on the road.

“Yeah? That’s not a bad idea.”

“Can’t promise that I’ll be any good at it though.”

“At playing the piano? I’ve heard you play before, Blaine. You’re really good.”

“No, at teaching,” Blaine wouldn’t say that he was “really good” at playing either, just adequate. Mediocre. “You could probably catch on quick though, you seem like a person that could play the piano.”

“Really? Why?”

“I don’t know, you have piano hands and piano fingers.”

“What does that even mean?”

“You’re fingers are all slim and long and quick and your hands are strong. They look like fingers that play the piano? I don’t know what I’m saying, I don’t know if the shape of fingers doesn’t really affect the way a piano is played.”

While they were stopped at a light Mike held up his hands and spread out his fingers, “Huh, I’ve never really payed that much attention to my hands.”

Blaine felt a blush rising on his cheeks and didn’t respond, thinking that it was probably a little too much to noticed that much about someone’s hands.

 

 **They rushed up the walk to Mike’s front door as the downpour was still persistently aggressive.** Blaine shivered as Mike struggled to unlock the door and when they finally made it inside Michael’s mother was waiting with two cups of hot chocolate. The kind with marshmallows and whipped cream on top. Blaine, while literally singing praises at the inviting smell of the cocoa shucked off his soaking coat and hung it next to Michael’s.

“I’ll toss these in the dryer,” she said as she pulled the coats off their hooks and received a kiss on the cheek from her son.

“Thanks mom.”

“If you have any clothes that will fit Blaine I can toss his clothes in the dryer as well.”

Blaine arched his eyebrows as he took a long sip of chocolatey warmness.

“That’s okay Mrs. Chang, my clothes aren’t that wet.”

The scoff and disbelieving expression that crossed both Mike’s and Mrs. Chang’s face made him smile behind his mug. It gave him a warm satisfaction to see how similar they were and how much they loved each other. But with the satisfaction came the longing for a close relationship with either of his parents. His mother wasn’t as distant as his father but they definitely didn’t have the closeness that Mike had with his mother.

“Finish that hot cocoa and then Michael will take you up to his room and find some decent clothes for you. Make sure you change too, Michael,” she pinch his wet sleeve with a clear sign of distaste.

“Hi Mike! Hi Blaine!” Sam’s younger siblings ran through the hallway and into the living room.

“Hey guys,” Sam called as he ran after them. “Stevie, Stacey, it’s time to go to bed.”

“I’ll go help him.” Mrs. Chang said. Mike winced as she left them and instantly started shouting in Chinese.

“It’s pretty much the only way she knows how to discipline kids.”

“Can they even understand her?”

“No, but it’s only the tone that matters. Sometimes she just spouts nonsense in a really impressive voice and they go all awed and silent.” Blaine smiled and drained the rest of drink. “I’ll put that in the sink for you.” Mike latched a finger around the handle of Blaine’s mug before Blaine could protest and headed to the kitchen.

“I think I still have some clothes from Jr. High that might fit you.” Mike said as they made their way upstairs.

“Okay, I’m not that tiny, Michael. I think I could fit reasonably in any of your clothes,” the sentence sounded weird coming out of his mouth but Mike didn’t pause or give Blaine and odd look so it just hung in the dead air between them, leaving a tickle on Blaine’s tongue.

Mike threw a pair of gym shorts and a plain white undershirt at him. “Bathroom’s all yours.”

The gel in Blaine’s hair had broken its firm grasp on the shape of his hair and as his hair dried he could see curls going loose around his ears. With a groan he tried to slick the back with some water, knowing that it was fruitless endeavor.  Accepting his defeat he excited the bathroom to catch Michael taking off his dripping wet shirt, droplets falling down his chest and onto his grey sweat pants. There was a twinge of lust before Blaine pointedly looked away.

“Sorry, Michael.” He apologized, not wanting Michael to get the wrong ideas. He often faced this dilemma at Dalton when other boys changed in front of him. He was always worried that other boys would get the wrong idea if his gaze lasted “too long” and momentarily feared that Mike would assume something similar…especially since Blaine’s eyes did linger a little longer than normal.

“No big, I was just changing my shirt.”

Blaine nodded and stole another glance before turning toward the door. He remembered getting coffee with Tina while he was dating Kurt and how she expounded on all of Mike’s wonderful qualities featuring his abs. Blaine thought she was embellishing at the time but in that moment he appreciated her complete honesty. Blood rushed into his cheeks and he quickly opened the door and headed down the stairs, he could hear Michael following him.

“The kids in bed?” Michael asked as they entered the living room.

Sam yawned and stretched out over the couch. “Yeah, let’s just hope they fall asleep before my mom or dad get home or I am going to be in trouble.”

Mike shoved Sam over and sat comfortably in the middle of the couch. His whole body seemed to sooth itself into the leather of the couch. A pang of guilt hit Blaine as he watched Mike stretch his arms out and go visibly dizzy from the magnitude of the stretch, his lack of sleep finally catching up to him and it was Blaine’s fault that he was so tired.

The couch wasn’t very comfortable, considering its squeaky fabric and stiffness of cushions but the clothes Michael gave him were so warm and so was Michael pressed up against his side. A tired Michael was a touchy drunk-like Michael and so Blaine ended up with one of Michael’s arms resting on his shoulder and one of Michael’s legs draped over his lap. Not that he was complaining.

By the time the movie actually stared Michael’s arm was all the way over his shoulders and playing aimlessly with the loose curls behind his ears, the heat from Michael’s fingers was sending Blaine into some kind of trance where he couldn’t even focus on Drew Barrymore getting killed on screen or Sam’s complaints about her being on the cover of the movie when she only appeared in a small part of the movie. He felt like this behavior from Michael was strange but not unprecedented. When he went to that party with all the New Directions people Michael was hugging and touching everyone and cuddling with an orange pillow. Being high off no sleep was terribly similar to being completely wasted. He decided he wasn’t going to read too much into it and just enjoy the way it made his heart race madly.

Before the principal could get stabbed to death Mike’s head was resting on Blaine’s should and he was lightly breathing on his ear, his chest moving slowly up and down as he slept. Blaine exchanged a look with Sam who smiled slightly and shrugged.

When the movie and Sam’s commentary ended Blaine helped get Michael back upstairs and into his bed. Sam didn’t ask any questions when Blaine grabbed a pen from Michael’s desk and wrote something on Michael’s arm before grabbing an extra blanket and pillow and heading back down to the couch.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Commentary** : I decided, since I wanted to give more moments to Mike and Blaine that I would cut out Thad and Wes in this scene though I will probably add them in later. Of course Wes is essential to this story so there really is no question about him popping up soon. I also gave some of this chapter to Mike's POV because I think his story is pretty important through out the entire fic. I felt like most of the conversation between Mike and Blaine in this chapter were originally forced and utterly terrible so I tried to up the casualness of their rapport. I also avoided the party situation and plan on saving it for either next chapter or the one after that.


	5. Dreams and Passenger Seats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael has a bad dream and he and Blaine go on a breakfast trip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very short section that goes directly after the events in chapter 4. It's not even a chapter really. It's a .5 chapter. Maybe even a .25 chapter. Make sure that you have read all of chapter 4 since I have added more since January. As always this .5 chapter has not been edited so point out any mistakes if you please!  
> By the way, inspiration for this little chapter came from Death Cab For Cutie's "Passenger Seat" and Thrice's "Night Diving" so go ahead and give those a listen if you want to.

**“Can I kiss you?”** Sunshine asked, stepping closer to his friend. Moonbeam looked at him with a blank expression for a small, quiet moment before his lips turned up into a slight, amused smile.

“No,” Moonbeam finally said, his smile growing before he darted away, an abnormal amount of dust dimming Sunshine’s view of his retreating figure. Sunshine gave chases, trying to keep Moonbeam in his sight. He could see Moonbeam’s curls bouncing with surreal enthusiasm ahead of him but as they ran deeper into the forest the thickness of the growth of above them dimmed the light, leaving him only glints of light flashing sporadically over his friend’s mess of hair.

“Come back,” he called to his friend as his legs became inexplicably heavy, as if the earth itself was sucking him into the ground. “Why are you running so fast?” He breathed out, his voice being sucked away too as darkness took over him. He tried to crawl forward but he was still being sucked down. He reached up for something to grab and felt the brittle coldness of a chain above him. His fingers weren’t strong enough to grip it. His hand felt transparent, fading through each attempt to save himself. He peered up and little glints of sunlight showed him a dented golden pocket watch swinging above him. He felt his heart skip when he saw that Moonbeam was holding the watch above him, the teasing smile still on his face and his hazel eyes brimming with tearful joy. “Moonbeam stop, this isn’t funny. We aren’t pirates today.”

This wasn’t how dreams were supposed to go. The trees were supposed to be shade, not enclosure, not suffocating. And Moonbeam was supposed to be with him.

“Moonbeam! Please don’t leave me here.”

Moonbeam’s face went suddenly still, his curls going stiff with like the thin line of his lips. He dropped the watch into the mud next to Sunshine. “Not Moonbeam. I’m Blaine now. Just Blaine.”

Michael shot up in his bed, his blankets falling away from his chest.His chest pounded unpleasantly as his stomach swooped and stumbled in his waking moments. He took in a large helping of air and breathed it out slowly, his hand going automatically up to his chest to try and calm it down. He felt a twinge of annoyance with himself when he felt the salt of tears in the corner of his mouth and quickly wiped the remaining tears from his cheeks. His chest ached with the familiarity of abandonment as he remembered the night he thought Moonbea—Blaine had forgotten about him. He half expected to be sitting in the middle of that meadow again, his hands clenched desperately to flowers and dirt. He felt desperately under his mattress and pulled out Moonbeam’s pocket watch, still in the same condition it was in when it was first handed to him. After taking a few deep breathes he slipped it back under his mattress, the chain hanging slightly out from underneath.

He glanced at his alarm clock and groaned as he shakily stood up. It was a couple hours before he was supposed to wake up and get ready for work but there was no way he was going back to bed. He glanced over at Sam’s slumbering form and made his way to his bathroom.

When he got into the shower he saw it. Written on his arm were the words “when you sleep you snore a little but in a cute way.” He let out a laugh loud enough to wake the whole household before leaning his head against the tiled wall of his shower. He felt a little upset about having to wash the ink away though his skin tingled with the reminder of Blaine’s words.

Sam was still sleeping when Michael finished getting dressed, his arm dangling over edge of his air-mattress, resting on a stack of comic books. Mike smiled fondly and made his way out of his room as quietly as possible so Sam could get some well-deserved sleep on his day off.

Mike sneaked his way down the stairs to prevent waking anyone up. He nearly curses when he hears a stirring coming from the living room while he’s on his way to the kitchen. He peered into the living room to see Blaine sitting up on the couch, his hair standing up but flattened on one side. One cheek was red and covered in indents from creases in the fabric of the couch. Mike let out a laugh that caused Blaine to look over at him, his eyes blinking the sleep out of them.

“Good morning,” Mike said, his tight smile holding back more laughter.

 

 **“Morning,” Blaine mumbled, barely making out Michael through his sleep-blurred eyes.** He glared at his watch. “It’s pretty earlier-early.”

“Yeah, I went to bed super early as you know. Since you’re up do you want breakfast?”

“Are you offering to make me breakfast?” Blaine’s brain was still catching up with reality.

“I was thinking McDonalds or something but if you want some burnt bacon and poorly-seasoned eggs then I am your guy.” When Mike finally came into focus Blaine noticed his genuine smile and damp hair and the smell of shampoo.

“Yeah, just let me get dressed. Do you think you could drop me off at my car after?” He stretched out lazily and let out a slightly musical yawn. “I need to get home and shower and dress and make sure my parents know that I didn’t die or get abducted last night.”

“You didn’t tell them you were staying the night?” Mike said, bewildered. “Are you trying to make it seem like I’m a bad influence on you? You’re parents like me, Blaine. Don’t ruin it for me.”

“You’re right,” Blaine grinned. “I should have thought about your relationship with my parents before staying over at your house without telling them. Won’t happen again.” Blaine stretched again, his smile lazy as his arms swung down by his sides.

“It might be too late, Blaine,” Mike smiled back, “I’ll get your clothes out of the dryer.” Blaine caught Mike glancing at his hair with a brief look of amusement before turning down the hallway.  

As soon as Mike was out of sight Blaine quickly crouched down to see his reflection in the television. With a frustrated sigh, Blaine attempted to flatten the hair that was sticking up, not worrying too much about the curls that were now freely springing out of his head. After doing the best he could he let his fingers linger at the hair behind his ear, remembering what it felt like to have Michael’s hand there. A shiver trickled down his spine and his lips tugged up in a tiny smile.

A bundle of clothes his the side of his face and he was forced out of his moment of pleasant remembrance. With an “oof!” he toppled over covered in the scent of dryer sheets and soft fabric. “Thanks,” he said dryly.

“No problem,” he heard Michael say. “Go get changed and be quiet because today is Sam’s day off and he needs his rest.”

“You’re such a good husband to him, are you going to tend to the baby if it starts crying in the middle of the night too?” Blaine grumbled, getting a shove from Michael as he passed. Blaine stumbled toward the steps and tried to keep his laughter suppressed.  On his way to Michael’s bathroom Blaine noticed a faded gold chain hanging from underneath Michael’s mattress but didn’t pay much attention to it, assuming that it was something Tina left behind or maybe some kind chain that Michael wore for one of his dance numbers.

Michael was waiting next to the door when Blaine came down.

“Shut up about my hair, okay? You have no gel in your bathroom.” Blaine huffed, flattening his curls as much as he could as they walked out the door.

“I do have gel,” Michael said as they were driving away, his smile growing as he glanced over at Blaine. “I keep it under the sink.”

“Are you serious right now? Now you tell me?” Blaine said, looking forlornly back at Michael’s house. “You did this on purpose.”

“Did what on purpose?” Michael said, pulling an obviously fake dubious expression. Blaine merely glared at him in response. “Oh come on, when you get home you can fix your hair.”

Blaine eventually replaced his glare with a small, pleased smile not really worrying about gracing Mike with a response as he rolled the window down and took in the scent of a morning after a night of rain. The only sound surrounding them on the quiet road was the tires of Michael’s car splashing through the small pools of water on the road. Blaine closed his eyes and leaned back in the passenger seat, content with the smell of rain on pavement and the slick movement of the car he was in, ever aware of the person sitting next to him. He opened his eyes and looked up at the golden morning sky, sunlight peeking through grey clouds and dim rainbows in the distance. The world in that moment was trapped perfectly between the night and day. It made him nostalgic for days he could wake up early and do nothing but pretend the entire world was with him, a part of him. The earth was breathing with him and with his companion.

When Michael stopped at a light he heard every thing as a beat with the earth, the clicking of the turn signal and the thrust of the gear into neutral as the car hummed in its static position. Blaine felt a few droplets hit his arm as he stuck his arm out the window, they were with the beat too. It felt like they were about to depart on some kind of journey together, leave Lima for different worlds.  His chest clenched as he longed after the thought of departure.

“So how was the rest of the movie, you know after I fell asleep.” Michael’s voice didn’t interrupt the peaceful music of their surround, but added to it. His voice wasn’t rich and deep or light and feathery, but calm and musical like an acoustic guitar or…simple notes on a piano.

“People died, there was fake blood. Mathew Lillard’s best work to be honest,” Blaine’s lips twitched into a smile as he closed his eyes again.

“I liked him as Shaggy,” Michael tone was off-handed but Blaine could hear the return of amusement as well.  

“Drop a TV on Shaggy’s head and you’ll get a comical gag of him getting so badly electrocuted that you can see his skeleton through his skin and muscles, drop a TV on Stu and you get the coolest death scene in that entire movie.”

“What about the girl that gets rolled up in the garage door?”

Blaine cringed. “That part always makes me feel very wary of garage doors but then Indiana Jones makes me want to roll underneath them while they’re closing. Movies are a bad influence.”

“Boycott all movies from now on.”

“On it. Already doing it. I’m boycotting right now by not watching any movies _right now_.”

They exchanged pleased smiles as if there was someone else in the car and they were keeping a secret from them.

They ate their breakfast in the Chopstix parking lot, the peacefulness of the morning replaced by breezy nonchalance. Hash browns were chewed slowly and the air wafting from the open windows provided solace. Blaine enjoyed that conversation wasn’t forced between them as they ate. Even after they were both done eating they sat a little longer enjoying their mutual silence.

“I really enjoyed this, Michael,” Blaine said, leaning into the driver side window. The sunlight was resting on Michael’s face at such a perfect angle that his dark eyes were lightened to a warm orange. He flashed a bright smile. “Like it was cool to hang out with just you. Don’t get me wrong I think Sam is awesome but it was nice to spend time with just you, you know?”

“Agreed, we should do it again sometime. Not watch movies though.”

“Of course not,” Blaine said with mock offense as he backed away from the car. “I’ll see you later, Michael.”

“Goodbye, Blaine.”

  


 

 

 

 


End file.
